Eternal Connection
by Vinsmouse
Summary: It was meant to bring them business. A regional magazine, a small article and their new agency would gain attention and clients. Attention it brought!
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own the Hardy Boys, not making any money, just cheap thrills.

Warnings: Angst, disturbing imagery, innuendo, violence

Rating: FRT

Summary: It was meant to bring them business. A regional magazine, a small article and their new agency would gain attention and clients. Attention it brought!

Eternal Connection

Chapter 1

"I can't believe you did that Joe," Frank slammed the office door. Storming past a stunned Ethel Radley the elder Hardy made a beeline for his private office.

"Oh come on Frank," Joe called after him. "Hi Ethel," he said in passing as he hurried after his brother.

Ethel wondered, not for the first time, if coming to work for the younger detectives had been such a good idea. Surely remaining a housewife wouldn't have been so bad. She shook her head. The offer from Fenton's sons had been a godsend. Never having children of her own she had become bored as a housewife, especially with her husband often away working on cases with his own partner.

Unfortunately spending years building a home for her and Sam hadn't given her many marketable skills. She had been considering volunteering as Laura did when Frank and Joe had decided to open their own agency rather than continuing to work for their father. Knowing Ethel had helped Sam with his files occasionally and needing a secretary they could trust they asked her if she would be interested in the job. Ethel had jumped at the chance. At the moment she could hear the boys arguing in Frank's office, though she couldn't understand everything they were saying, most of it being muffled by the closed door. She shook her head in bemusement; at least work was rarely dull with those two in charge.

"I knew agreeing to this article was a bad idea," Frank glared at his younger brother. When they had been approached by the magazine about including the Hardy Detective Agency, not to be confused with Hardy and Radley, in a series on up and coming businesses Frank had resisted. He didn't mind publicity, really he didn't, but the magazine in question was known for fluff pieces and he wasn't sure a profile of their business in its pages would really be helpful. Actually he was very much afraid it would be detrimental to business. How could anybody take them seriously when they were being written about in a regional version of People magazine.

"It'll bring attention to the agency," Joe said, not for the first time. He really didn't see what the big deal was. So the magazine wasn't dedicated to law enforcement, it would help get their names out there. More importantly it would help them break away from their father's shadow. Joe was proud of his father and he definitely recognized the doors Fenton Hardy's name had opened for them but he was 24 and his brother 25, it was time for them to prove themselves on their own merits. He, for one, didn't want to spend the rest of his life being known only as Fenton Hardy's son; given respect more for his father's name than his own accomplishments. He thought Frank wanted the same thing.

"Yeah Joe, but what kind of attention?" Frank closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose in hopes of staving off the headache that was rapidly forming. "You knew I didn't want an article on us in that magazine but you talked me into it. You promised Joe, promised, that the interview would stick to the agency and what our professional goals are."

Joe ducked his head. "I didn't know they were going to ask personal questions Frank."

Frank turned an incredulous stare upon his younger brother.

Joe flinched. "What was I supposed to do? She asked, it would have been rude not to answer."

"Oh and I suppose the fact that she was pretty had nothing to do with it? They sure knew what they were doing when they sent her to conduct the interview." Frank grabbed a bottle of water form the small fridge in his office and flopped into his chair. "Why didn't you just tell her that we wanted to focus the interview on the business?" Frank held up his hand, "No, don't bother I already know the answer. A pretty girl asked about your personal life and you just couldn't wait to let her know you were single and looking. That was bad enough Joe, since it was supposed to be an interview about the business, but why in the hell did you have to tell her we were both single and looking?"

"Well we are," Joe defended, crossing his arms over his chest.

"No Joe, you are," Frank countered.

"I know you're not seeing anybody Frank."

"I didn't say I was."

"Jesus Frank, you're only 25, live a little!"

"My life is just fine the way it is little brother."

"I don't get you Frank, I really don't get you. Most guys your age would be thrilled to have their pictures in a magazine, getting attention from women, but not you. No, my brother would rather act like some dried up old man than a young guy in the prime of his life." Shaking his head Joe headed for the door. He stopped with his hand on the handle and looked back at his brother. "Tell you what Frank if you get any women trying to get your attention because of that article feel free to send them my way."

Joe was gone before Frank had a chance to reply. He wasn't a monk, no matter what Joe might think. He was as interested in women as any other red-blooded male he just preferred to meet them the old-fashioned way, not by essentially taking out a personal ad in a magazine. The article would appear in the next issue of the magazine which wouldn't go on sale for another two weeks; maybe he could talk the editor into leaving out the personal information.

A/N: I know there wasn't any angst, violence, etc. in this chapter but we will get there eventually. In the meantime I hope y'all will enjoy the fun aspects.

TBC...

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	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Despite his best efforts Frank had been unable to convince the editor to omit the personal questions and responses from the article. And as he had feared the article had brought attention they didn't need. Since the article appeared last week they had only gained two new clients, neither had read the interview. Joe insisted they had to give it time; it had only been a week after all.

Little brother didn't have an answer, however, when Frank pointed out that the week since the magazine came out had seen dozens of cards and letters from women asking, suggesting and hinting at their desire to date one or both of the brothers. If that wasn't disturbing enough, there had even been a few men sending letters. That had even managed to creep Joe out, but not enough that he would admit the article had been a bad idea.

At first Frank had politely responded to the women, doing his best to discourage their attention. Maybe he had been too polite, maybe the women were determined, but for whatever reason it hadn't worked. Far from discouraging them the replies seemed to increase their desire to spend time with the brothers. After that Frank had decided the best solution was to ignore the letters. He suspected that the women would, after a while, become bored or offended with the lack of response and move on to the next minor celebrity. Not that Frank considered himself a celebrity, minor or otherwise, but apparently to some people anybody who appeared in the pages of a magazine was automatically afforded celebrity status.

He had worried at first that Joe would agree to meet up with one or more of the women. His reaction to the letters had been a cat ate the canary grin and an expression that clearly indicated his imagination hard at work. Frank had no idea how he was going to convince his brother that meeting any of the women would be a bad idea. Most of them were probably just harmless, lonely women looking for some love and/or excitement in their lives. But there was always the chance that some were operating a scam of some sort or could even be related to somebody they or their father had helped send to prison. Luckily his younger brother had more sense than he sometimes gave him credit for. He was simply more willing than Frank to enjoy the attention.

"Hey Frank, have you got the Casey file?" Joe peeked his head around the door to see his older brother hard at work.

"Yeah, I was just finishing the final report," Frank replied without looking up.

Joe stepped into the room, flopping into one of the chairs in front of Frank's desk. "I'm glad that one is over with."

"Mmmhmm," Frank kept typing.

"I know they pay the bills but I really don't like cheating husband cases. You know I'm surprised we haven't gotten any cheating wife cases. Do you think maybe women don't cheat or is it that men aren't able to see it?"

Frank looked up, "Joe I'm trying to work."

"So go ahead, I'm not stopping you," Joe grinned.

"Actually you are." Frank returned to the file. He agreed with Joe, these types of cases were boring and left him feeling somewhat sleazy. But they did pay the bills and not all of their cases were going to be exciting. Their father had warned them of this very thing when they decided to open their own agency.

"You know," Joe continued as if he hadn't heard Frank, "I really hate it when Dad is right."

Frank chuckled. "You just hate having to admit it."

"True," Joe agreed with a easy grin.

"There," Frank hit print and sat back, satisfied to be finished with the final report. He had hated having to confirm to Mrs. Casey that her husband was cheating on her. The woman didn't seem too broken up by it which led Frank to believe the other woman was going to end up costing Mr. Casey a small fortune. He couldn't really find it in himself to feel sorry for the man.

"What do you think about the Thompson case?" Joe asked.

"One of is going to have to go in undercover." The Thompson case wasn't very exciting either; a simple case of embezzlement, but at least there weren't any cheating husbands involved. The only real issue was determining who the guilty party was, if there was a guilty party. Thompson was sure there were funds going missing but he wasn't sure who was taking them or even if they were being taken. It was possible that the so-called embezzlement was a simple error that had continued to be carried over in the books, accumulating until the small error became a large one.

"You mean you'll have to go in undercover," Joe grinned.

"You're just as capable as I am of accounting forensics," Frank frowned.

Joe scoffed. "No, I'm as capable as you are in accounting, the forensics side of it is a little beyond me."

"Joe don't do that."

"Do what?"

"You know what," Frank chided. "You're as smart as I am. I really don't know where you got the idea you're not."

Joe shrugged. "I'm not putting myself down Frank, honestly." There had been a time when he had thought he wasn't as good as Frank but he'd grown past that. His brother, however, worried about him, Joe doubted that would ever change and truthfully he didn't want it to. Still he needed Frank to understand there was nothing to worry about, his old insecurities weren't making a reappearance. "This isn't about one of us being smarter than the other. There are just some areas where you're better than me and some where I'm better than you."

Frank had to concede his brother was right this time. "So I'll make arrangements with Mr. Thompson for me to go to work in the accounting department. Think you can handle the Miller case on your own?"

"Yeah, not that I expect any real progress any time soon." Missing persons cases were some of the hardest to solve, especially when the missing didn't want to be found. "I just hope Miller understands that."

"I think he does Joe, after all his son ran away six months ago and nothing has turned up."

Joe nodded. He knew Miller had come to them without any real hope. The police weren't really searching, a common case when teenagers ran away, and after six months the trail was stone cold. Still they would do their best to find the boy, Joe only hoped he would be alive and relatively well when they found him.

"Guess we both better get to work," Joe stood and headed for the door.

Frank nodded as he picked up his phone to call Mr. Thompson on his private line. It took only a moment to arrange an after hours meeting at Thompson's home. If Frank were to be successful in his undercover assignment it would be best if he wasn't seen at Thompson's office, especially in light of the magazine article. He made a mental note to disguise himself before going anywhere near Thompson Shipping's offices. All they would need is for one of the employees to recognize him and the assignment would be blown before he started.

A pinging sound alerted him to an incoming email. Turning to the computer Frank opened up his mail program. The subject line, urgent need, caught his eye immediately. Clicking on the message he opened the email and began to read.

_Darling, your eyes tell me of the urgent need you have. I see myself within you, the need for a faithful companion. The connection between us is obvious, please say you agree._

At this point Frank hit the delete button, silently cursing his younger brother's ability to talk him into things his better sense all but screamed at him to avoid.

TBC...

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	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"Hi Mom," Frank kissed his mother's cheek as he entered the kitchen.

"Hello dear," Laura smiled. "Your father isn't here," she assumed her eldest was looking for Fenton. Frank rarely dropped in unless it was to talk to his father. Joe on the other hand might stop in to see any of them or to search the attic or basement for some item of his childhood that had suddenly come to mind. They both could be counted on, however, to be here for Sunday dinner, unless work kept them too busy.

"Actually I came to see you," Frank said as he slid onto a stool and leaned on the kitchen island.

Laura's smile grew. It wasn't often Frank came to her with his problems and concerns; he had always been more inclined to talk to his father, if he talked to anybody. "What can I help you with dear?"

"Can't I just come to visit my mother?"

"Oh Frank, of course you can," Laura hurried to assure her first-born. "But we both know your visits usually have a reason behind them."

Frank frowned. Had he really been so inattentive to his own mother? He had always been reserved, quiet, especially compared to his brother, but he hadn't realized he'd been ignoring his own mother.

"There isn't any reason for you to feel guilty Frank. I know you love me honey but you've never been one for small talk," Laura said, correctly reading his expression.

"But you're my mother I should visit more."

Laura laid down the knife she'd been using to chop vegetables. Stepping around the island she took her son's face between her small hands. "You listen to me Franklin Lee Hardy."

Frank smiled, the tone of her voice reminding him of when he was a small boy. Well that and the use of his full name.

"You are a wonderful son, one any mother would be proud to call her own. We have our visit every Sunday as you well know. No, don't interrupt, it's rude and I taught you better than that." Laura smiled as his mouth snapped shut. "I am not hurt by the fact that you aren't apt to drop in just to chat. You're a busy man, I know that, but you always take the time to say hello when you come by to discuss a problem with your father. The fact that you don't have hours to spend just chatting is in no way indicative of your feelings for me." She kissed his cheek, "Besides what makes you think I have time to just sit and talk?" With a wink and a light laugh she returned to the other side of the kitchen island and the vegetables she'd been chopping. Saying nothing more she waited patiently for Frank to bring up the reason for the visit.

Quietly Frank watched his mother chopping vegetables. She knew him very well, he couldn't deny that. He laughed with her over her parting shot. "So Mom, you're a woman."

Laura grinned, "Last time I checked."

Frank blushed. "Yeah, well you know about that article Joe talked me into, right?" Laura nodded and he went on. "Since it came out I've been getting cards and letters from women," he didn't mention the few from men, he really didn't want to think about those. "I didn't want to be rude but I'm not interested in meeting any of these women."

"That's probably wise," Laura commented.

"I guess. Anyway I didn't want to be rude so I sent polite refusals to the first few that came in but that didn't stop them."

"Peaked their interest is my guess."

Frank couldn't hide his surprise. "How'd you guess?"

Laura chuckled. "Well I am, as you pointed out, a woman. Though I don't suppose it applies only to women, some people just want what they can't have."

"Yeah," Frank had to agree. "But what do I do then to discourage them? I've been ignoring them but that hasn't helped either."

Laura continued chopping vegetables, using the time to carefully consider her son's problem. "I'm not really sure honey. I think you're right to just ignore them. The type of women who would write letters to people in magazines will soon find somebody else to grab their attention. That's of course assuming none of them have been threatening, but you don't need me to tell you what to do in that instance."

"No, that'd I'd know how to handle. Do you really think ignoring them is the best way to handle it?"

"I don't see what else you can do honey. It might take time but I imagine it will work eventually. Polite refusal didn't work and meeting them in person would certainly be a bad idea."

Frank shrugged. "I doubt any of them would be strong enough to be a threat."

Laura laid her knife down, walked calmly around the island and smacked her eldest on the back of the head. Without a word she returned to her task.

"Mom," Frank protested, blushing when he heard the near whine in his voice.

Laura's tinkling laughter filled the kitchen. "Just be glad it was me and not your aunt you said that to."

Frank shuddered; he would have had much worse from his aunt. "I didn't mean to sound chauvinistic but come on Mom you can't deny that men are generally stronger than women."

"Yes generally that's true," Laura conceded. "But don't mistake a lack of strength for a lack of threat. You've worked enough cases on your own and with your father to know that women can be just as dangerous as men."

"You're right. It was a stupid thing to say," Frank admitted. "So, I guess you're right. I'll just ignore the ones that have come in and any others, hopefully they'll soon find somebody else to bother."

"What about your brother?"

"What about him?" Frank sourly asked. He was still annoyed with Joe for the remarks he'd made during the interview.

"Is he getting letters too?"

"Yeah but I don't think it bothers him. You know Joe; he's enjoying the attention, not to mention the pictures some of them send."

"Pictures?"

Frank ducked his head, his face growing redder than at any other point in the conversation.

Laura raised an eyebrow. "Just what sort of pictures are these women sending you boys?"

"Um, well, we didn't ask them to," Frank stammered.

"Frank Hardy!"

"Hey I'm not the one ogling them," the brunette held up his hands.

"Yes, well I'll be having a talk with your brother on Sunday, and don't you dare warn him."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Frank grinned. He hadn't planned on getting Joe into trouble with their mother but he supposed it'd work as far as payback was concerned.

Laura laughed. "No, I don't suppose you would. Just try not to enjoy your brother's discomfort too much," she winked.

"Not too much," Frank agreed. Standing up he moved around the island. Leaning down he kissed his petite mother on the cheek. "Thanks Mom."

Laura smiled affectionately, "Anytime honey."

"Better get back to work," Frank said. Snatching up a carrot as he went he headed towards the back door. "See you Sunday," he called as he left the house.

TBC...

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	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I would suggest you not eat or drink while reading this chapter.**

Chapter 4

Frank opened the card, not surprised in the least when he saw the signature. Most of the women had stopped when they received no response but this one, Cassandra, was more persistent than the rest.

"Oh God, my eyes!"

Hearing his brother cry out Frank dropped the card to the floor and ran to Joe's office. From the corner of his eye he saw Ethel coming from the front office. Waving her back, he grabbed the handle, throwing open the door to his brother's office. He saw Joe seated at his desk, hands over his eyes and moaning as if he were in a great deal of pain. Hurrying forward he grabbed the arm of the chair, spinning it so he was facing his brother. "Joe? What happened?" he couldn't see any obvious injuries, there was no blood seeping from between fingers, nor could see any burn marks.

Joe shook his head, moaning softly.

Frank realizing he was going to have to take action if he wanted answers began to carefully pull Joe's hands from his face. His eyes were screwed tightly shut but that was all Frank saw. "Joe I need you to open your eyes for me," he gently instructed.

"Should I call an ambulance?" Ethel asked from the doorway. When she had failed to hear any threatening voices or gunshots she had ventured down the hall to see if she could help.

"I don't..." Frank began, stopping when Joe shook his head. "If you don't want an ambulance you'd better open your eyes little brother," he hoped the threat would work.

"Not until it's gone," Joe mumbled.

Frank exchanged a confused glance with Ethel. "Until what's gone?"

"It," Joe groaned pointing at his desk.

Until this point Frank hadn't given the desk more than a cursory glance. He had been much more concerned with finding out how badly Joe was hurt; discovering what had hurt him could wait. Hoping he would know what it was when he saw it Frank turned to the desk. He shouldn't have worried; one glance and he knew exactly what had caused his brother to cry out. Frank bit his lip as he quickly flipped the offending picture face down. "It's okay now Joe," he said in a strangled voice.

Cautiously Joe opened his eyes. Glancing at the desk he was relieved to no longer see the image he'd found in the most recent letter from an admirer. "Don't," he warned his brother. One look and he knew Frank was seconds from losing control.

Frank tried, he really did but there was no holding back. It started as a bubble escaping through tightly held lips, escalating in seconds to full-blown laughter.

"It's not funny," Joe crossed his arms over his chest.

"Course not," Frank managed before laughter once more won out over brotherly loyalty.

Curious and guessing that neither brother would tell her, Frank because he couldn't and Joe because he wouldn't, Ethel stepped fully into the office and walked to the desk. "Is this what all the fuss is about?" she asked as she picked up the picture.

"No," Joe cried out, snatching at the picture but it was too late. Sinking back into his chair, he covered his rapidly reddening face with his hands, completely mortified.

"Oh my," Ethel gasped as she took in the sight of a very good looking, muscular young man wearing nothing but a pair of cowboy boots and hat. Though her own face was as red as Joe's she couldn't resist teasing the youngest Hardy. "Something you'd like to share with the class Joe?"

"Oh God," Joe moaned. His brother's continuing laughter wasn't helping. "Shut up Frank." Snatching the picture from Ethel he tossed it into the trash. "Forget you saw that Ethel."

"Of course, I wouldn't dream of mentioning it to anybody," the older woman grinned. She made a mental note to retrieve the picture from the trash later; a woman could enjoy a little eye candy couldn't she?

"This doesn't leave the office Ethel," Joe motioned to the trash can.

"Well Joe if it doesn't leave the office your office is going to get awfully messy when the basket begins to overflow," she teased.

"You know what I meant."

"Yes Joe I did and don't worry I won't tell anybody." Ethel glanced at Frank who was no longer laughing like the proverbial hyena though small chuckles were still escaping from time to time. "Your brother on the other hand, well I wouldn't count on his silence."

"He'd better keep quiet," Joe warned, turning to glare at his brother.

"I thought you liked hearing from your fans?" Frank grinned.

"Stupid article," Joe groused.

Ethel shared a grin with Frank; she had heard the younger man teasing the older often enough about his discomfort over the letters each had been receiving. "Would you like me to open all of the mail from now on Joe?" she offered.

"Would you?" Joe looked hopefully up at their secretary.

Frank slapped his brother on the back of the head. "You are not going to subject Ethel to stuff like that. You wanted the article, you told the reporter we were both single and looking, so you, little brother are just going to have to risk opening your own mail."

Joe gave a pitiful look at the trash can before turning his gaze upon his brother. It was clear he would find no sympathy there. "Fine, but if I go blind it'll be on your head," he warned, casting another glance at the trash.

Frank laughed, "I think I'll risk it."

Ethel picked up the trash can that was obviously making Joe uncomfortable. "I'll just get rid of this for you," she offered. The fact that it would give her a chance to retrieve the picture had nothing to do with it of course.

"Thank you Ethel, you're a wonderful person," Joe smiled. "Unlike some people I could name."

Frank though wasn't offended. He only laughed a bit more at his brother's discomfort. "Well I don't know about you little brother, but I've got work to do." He followed Ethel to the door, pausing on the threshold he turned back, "So you gonna write him back?" He closed the door just in time to dodge the pencil Joe lobbed in his direction. Frank grinned as it made impact with the door. Whistling tunelessly he made his way back to his own office. He could think of no better punishment for his brother, and then he remembered the talk their mother had planned for Joe. He would have to decide before Sunday just how and when to let his parents know about the latest picture his brother had received.

TBC...

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	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Might want to avoid food and drink while reading.**

Chapter 5

"You didn't tell Mom or Dad about the picture?" Joe asked for the third time that day.

"No Joe," Frank confirmed letting his exasperation come through. He had intended to tell them but they had been so busy in the last couple of days there hadn't been a chance. Maybe he could tell them today?

Joe narrowed his eyes, staring at his older brother with suspicion. "You better not either."

Frank just grinned and opened the front door of their childhood home. "Mom, Dad," he called out as they stepped into the entry hall. There was no answer but he could hear the faint sound of music coming from the backyard. It seemed they'd be having a cookout today that was fine with him; it was a nice day for it.

"Ah boys, right on time," Fenton plopped a cowboy hat on each head as his sons stepped into the backyard.

"What's with the hats?" Frank asked. He ignored the glare he could feel his brother aiming his way. The brat could think what he liked; Frank hadn't told their parents anything about the picture.

"It's National Cowboy Day, your mother thought we'd celebrate with a western style barbeque," Fenton grinned.

Joe knew Frank had told them and here was the proof. "Why now?"

Fenton looked confused, "When else would you celebrate cowboys but on National Cowboy Day?"

"Like there's really any such day," Joe scoffed.

Fenton shrugged and returned to his duties at the grill. "I don't think your mother would lie to us."

"Of course not," Laura said. She greeted each of her tall sons with a kiss to the cheek. "I can show you the calendar if you'd like Joe."

Joe reddened. "No, I believe you Mom."

"Are you sure dear? It wouldn't be any trouble," Laura sweetly offered.

"I'm sure. But why are we suddenly celebrating cowboys? We've never done that before."

"Oh, well I saw the date on this new calendar a friend sent me and I thought it would be fun."

"And that's the only reason?" Joe was still suspicious, no he had passed suspicious and went straight to certain his brother had told about the picture.

"Would there be some other reason?" Laura handed Joe the coleslaw. "Be a dear and put this on the table would you honey?"

"Sure Mom," Joe took the bowl, automatically doing as his mother requested. Glancing at his father and brother, each wearing a cowboy hat the blond blushed beet red, his mind flashing to the image he had received in the mail. God it was going to be a long day.

He was sure his parents knew about the picture but should he confront them? What if he was wrong? He decided he would need to get Frank alone somewhere if he wanted to get any answers. The opportunity never came. Every time he thought he could drag his brother off somewhere to interrogate him one of his parents would have something for one of them to do. Finally in desperation he cornered him as they worked on cleaning away the leftovers and trash.

"Tell me the truth Frank," Joe demanded.

"I told you the truth," Frank calmly replied.

"Right, so you didn't tell Mom or Dad about the picture? It's just a coincidence that Mom decided to celebrate cowboy day this year," Joe scoffed. "I know I'm not as smart as you Frank but I'm not stupid."

"I never said you were," Frank countered. Neither young man was aware of their parents standing nearby, grins spreading across their faces as they listened to the boys argue.

Laura stepped forward and took the container of leftover slaw from Joe's hands. "I don't know why you're so upset honey. I thought you liked ogling naughty pictures."

Joe stared, mouth hanging open in shock. He didn't know what shocked him more his mother's words or the deadpan delivery.

Laura reached up, gently closing Joe's mouth. "You'll catch flies," she teased.

Joe turned to Frank, eyes hard with accusation. "I knew you told them."

Frank held up his hands. "I didn't, I swear. I don't know how they knew." Frank had suspected they knew but as he hadn't gotten the chance to tell them he couldn't imagine how. Unless, maybe Ethel...no, she wouldn't reveal anything that happened in the office even if it had nothing to do with a case.

"Right, sure you didn't."

"Oh no, Frank didn't tell me," Laura interjected.

"Ethel?" Joe was shocked. He would have never expected the older woman to go back on her word.

Laura shook her head.

The boys exchanged a confused glance. "Then how?" Joe asked.

"Well Vincent told me he'd sent it, just like I'd asked him to," Laura grinned unrepentantly.

Mouths once more fell open in shock. It was Fenton that reached out to close them. "Flies boys, flies," he teased.

"You ask...but why...how...who?" Joe stumbled trying to figure out which question to ask first, unable to settle on one.

"Very articulate little brother," Frank teased coming out of his shock sooner.

"Well your brother told me you were enjoying ogling the pictures your admirers were sending," Laura said. "And you know I always taught you boys the importance of treating men and women equally," she grinned.

Frank laughed, soon doubling over clutching his stomach as the true genius of his mother was revealed. "He's...scared...open...mail," he gasped through his laughter.

Joe's face was as red as any of them had ever seen. "That wasn't funny," he nearly whined, the heat in his face rising with the added mortification.

Fenton clapped his youngest on the shoulder. "Actually son, it really was."

"I do hope you plan to write Vincent a note, he'll be so hurt if you ignore him," Laura teased, unable to resist adding to her son's discomfort. She doubted he would be in any hurry to treat women with such disrespect in the future. Oh she realized the women had sent their pictures to her sons and that neither young man had requested them but that didn't mean ogling them was necessary.

"Mom," Joe did whine this time. He couldn't believe his own mother would set him up like that. "He doesn't really expect that does he?" he was afraid to ask but he had to know.

Laura laughed. "No honey, Vincent knows you wouldn't be interested. Though he did say it was too bad when I showed him your picture."

Joe's face, which had been slowly returning to a normal hue, quickly began to redden again. "So how do you know this guy anyway?" he asked when the laughter finally died down. He certainly wouldn't have expected his mother to know a man who would willingly send naked pictures to strangers.

"He works at the hospital; we have coffee together on days I volunteer. His parents died a few years ago and I noticed him one day in the cafeteria, looking so alone it hurt to watch him. I introduced myself and we've been friends ever since," Laura explained. Vincent was a very nice young man who didn't deserve the hand life had dealt him. He never complained though, just quietly went about his work a smile always on his face and a mischievous twinkle in his blue eyes. He had been only too happy to help her in teaching her youngest a lesson, enjoying the humor of the idea.

"I still can't believe you did that to your own son," Joe groused as he turned away to carry the slaw into the house. He did his best to ignore the laughter following in his wake.

TBC...

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	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Monday morning Frank entered his office, flicked on the light and froze. "Joe," he called to his brother. "Joe!" he yelled.

"You don't have to yell Frank, I'm not deaf," Joe said as he ambled down the hall towards his brother.

"Sometimes I wonder," Frank mumbled.

"You bellowed?" As he spoke Joe glanced past Frank into the office. "Whoa! Somebody must really like you big brother." On Frank's desk sat an expensive floral arrangement, roses of all colors filled the vase interspersed with sprays of blue and white baby's breath.

Frank looked between his brother and the flowers. Obviously his brother had nothing to do with this, so who had left the flowers on his desk? "Ethel isn't here yet, is she?"

"No, she had a doctor's appointment this morning."

"Then how did those get in here?" Frank pointed at the desk. In a few long strides he was at the desk, plucking the card from the flowers.

"Darling, I know you're a busy man but please can't you spare a few minutes of your time to acknowledge our great need? Love, Cassandra." Frank tossed the card onto the desk and reached for the vase intending what he wasn't sure, he just wanted the flowers gone. His brother's hand on his wrist stopped him before he could complete the movement.

"Fingerprints," Joe couldn't believe he had to remind his brother of such an elementary step. "Unless you know who Cassandra is?"

Frank shook his head. "One of the more persistent admirers I've picked up recently."

Joe had the decency to look chagrined, "Sorry about that. Is this the first time she's sent you a gift?"

"No, there was a box of chocolates last week, but those were delivered." Frank pulled a drawer open and withdrew a pair of latex gloves.

Joe took the gloves before his brother could don them, pulling them onto his own hands. He could see the slight tremor Frank tried to hide. "Why don't I take care of this?"

"I can..."

"I know, but I've always been better at dusting for prints," Joe winked. "Why don't you see if you can find how she got in here?"

Frank nodded, ignoring the print remark for now. They needed to know how this Cassandra person had gained entry. He began his investigation with an examination of his own office. A feeling of eyes watching him sent a slight shiver down his spine. He quickly shook the feeling off, telling himself he was letting his imagination run away with him. By the time he'd finished with his office Joe had returned to begin dusting the room itself for prints. A shake of his brother's head told him there'd been no prints on the vase. Without a word Frank left the room to examine the other rooms that made up the Hardy Detective Agency.

"Anything?" Frank asked as he met up with Joe in his office.

"Nothing, whoever this Cassandra is she's good," Joe scowled. He never liked being bested by an opponent, whether in a mystery or a simple game.

Frank nodded. "I couldn't find anything either. I wonder if Cassandra is who she seems to be?"

"You mean an over-enthusiastic admirer quickly turning stalker?"

"I mean what if Cassandra isn't real?

Joe raised an eyebrow. "I'm pretty sure those flowers were real Frank, and you read the card yourself."

Frank just shook his head. Joe was a good detective, much smarter than many gave him credit for, but sometimes he could make you think he was the quintessential dumb blond. "I mean what if Cassandra is just a front."

"For who?"

"I don't know," Frank admitted. "You don't suppose it's a joke do you?" he asked, watching his brother carefully.

"Awfully expensive joke," Joe doubtfully replied. He caught his brother's look, "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Just checking."

"You thought I was Cassandra?"

"You have to admit it is the kind of thing you'd do," Frank calmly pointed out.

"Yeah," Joe admitted, "but I would have sent you daisies or violets, something a lot less expensive than roses."

Frank had to concede the point. "Which brings us back to just who is Cassandra?"

"Well if she isn't real and it isn't a joke that really only leaves one option..."

"Somebody out for revenge," Frank completed the sentence.

"Yeah, but who?"

Frank shrugged, "No idea. All we can do is start checking the files and keep our eyes and ears open for any threats."

"Probably should check with Dad too," Joe pointed out. "Maybe focus on cases you had more involvement with or were more instrumental in solving."

"Yeah," Frank absently agreed already pulling open filing cabinet drawers. Their newer cases were on the computer and they were transferring older ones there as well but many of the cases from their younger days were still recorded on paper only. If Cassandra was an enemy returned, or a relative of an enemy it was more likely to be a case from years ago rather than something more recent.

"I'll call Dad, let him know what's going on," Joe offered, reaching for the phone. About to pick up the receiver he suddenly realized if Frank is the target whoever was after him might have bugged his phone. "On second thought, think I'll use my cell phone." He was fishing the phone from his pocket as he stepped into the hall. As he started to dial he made a mental note to check his brother's office for any surveillance equipment the mysterious Cassandra might have left behind.

TBC...

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	7. Chapter 7

A/N: The question has been raised as to why the boys are looking at older cases rather than more recent ones. Sometimes what I'm thinking fails to make it to the page so I'll answer the question here. The cases they've had since starting their own agency have been small time so their thinking is that if it is an enemy pretending to be a stalker it's more likely an older case than a newer one. Thanks to those who raised the question, I only wish I had remembered sooner that y'all aren't mind readers. ;)

Chapter 7

Cassandra sat in her living room, laptop perched on the coffee table in front of her. Butterflies flitted in her stomach as she watched the screen, anticipating the moment her love would enter the scene. Would he appreciate the flowers? She hadn't been sure what color he would prefer and so she had chosen a few of every available shade. The florist had been shocked, it was an expensive arrangement after all, but it wasn't as if Cassandra couldn't afford the cost. Her parents had left her more money than she could spend in two lifetimes.

Thoughts of her parents brought a frown to her pretty face. She wondered, not for the first time, if they even were her parents. Cassandra didn't see how she could have come from their gene pool. There was nobody in her family, parents, grandparents, cousins, aunts or uncles who shared her looks. Where they were mostly brunettes, with a couple of redheads, she was blessed with long, silky strands of strawberry blonde hair. Eye color was more varied among her family but even there she was unique with her deep violet eyes reminiscent of Elizabeth Taylor. It had in fact been the deep blue, later to become violet, which had caused her mother to choose to name her Elizabeth. But she was unique, one of a kind, why should she share her name with another, no matter how famous the woman might be. The moment Cassandra had come of age she took legal steps to change her name to something more appropriate. She wasn't stupid, of course, realizing there were other Cassandra's in the world but at least it wasn't a common name, nor was it chosen to honor some celebrity, it was uniquely her.

The sight of the door opening on screen drove all thoughts of family from Cassandra's mind. Leaning forward she drank in the sight of her beloved Franklin. She refused to call him Frank; such an ordinary name would never do for the man she was destined to love. She had known it the moment she saw the magazine. His eyes bore into her very soul, speaking of a connection that could only be meant for her.

"Oh Franklin how sweet," she whispered as his brother appeared in the doorway. He had of course wanted to show his brother how very much she loved him. But what is this? Why is he getting gloves? Cassandra giggled, they were dusting for prints. She should have realized Franklin would want to find her. "Don't worry darling it isn't time yet, but we'll meet again soon." They hadn't met yet in this life but that connection she'd felt could mean only one thing. They were soul mates, connected to one another for all of eternity. They would be together again, just as they had obviously been in their previous lives but not until the time was right.

As the brothers talked Cassandra was kicking herself for the choice to only tap into Franklin's webcam. But he didn't have a built in microphone and she was afraid he would find any listening devices; she hadn't wanted to worry him. Perhaps if she watched their body language and actions she could gain an idea of what they were saying.

"So what do you want done with these?" Joe asked, holding up the vase.

"I don't know," Frank frowned. "It seems a shame to waste them but..." he shuddered.

"Yeah," Joe nodded. Somebody sneaking into their offices, leaving no evidence of the break in, and leaving flowers behind was creepy. "You think Ethel would like them?"

Frank couldn't resist the opportunity to tease his brother. "Something you'd like to tell me little brother?"

Joe scowled even as his face reddened. "Just to brighten the office," he clarified.

Frank laughed and nodded, "Good idea."

"You're really not as funny as you think," Joe complained as he left the office, vase of flowers in hand. Behind him he heard his brother's laughter grow and he grinned. If being the butt of the joke would take Frank's mind off the creepy, might be, stalker Joe would willingly accept the teasing. That didn't mean he wouldn't turn the tables on his brother at the first opportunity. They'd throw him out of the annoying younger brother club if he didn't.

Cassandra glared at the screen. How dare that brat take the flowers meant for his brother! He was probably going to use them to impress one of his cheap tramps. Oh yes she knew the sort of man Joe Hardy was. He was the typical blond jock, shallow and only interested in one thing when it came to women. He was nothing like her beloved Franklin, so sensitive and considerate, even willing to give up the flowers she'd gifted him just to help his younger brother.

Still, it wasn't right of the blond to take the flowers meant for his brother. It didn't matter that Franklin had obviously given his permission, Joe, such a common name she sniffed disdainfully, shouldn't have asked. Cassandra would have to find a means of punishing him for the way he had cheapened her gift.

Joe waited for Frank to leave for his appointment with Mr. Thompson. He hadn't completed the job yet but he was sure somebody was embezzling funds from the company. If Frank said there was a crime being committed, Joe was sure he was right.

As soon as his brother left Joe began searching Frank's office for any surveillance equipment. He wished they could afford some of the high-tech detection gear but they were only just starting out. Maybe he should ask his dad if he could borrow his. No, he didn't want to be dependent on his father when he could just as easily search the old-fashioned way. Sure it would take longer but it was what detectives did before there was tech available to help in the search.

Three hours later Joe flopped into Frank's chair. He was certain there was nothing hidden in the office, no microphones and no cameras. It didn't explain the earlier sensation of being watched but he couldn't deny the relief he felt. He hadn't told his brother of his suspicions; Frank had been spooked enough by the flowers, no need to make it worse. Considering what he'd found, or rather hadn't found, he was glad he'd made the decision to keep his suspicions to himself.

Cassandra stood within the shadows of a hidden corner deep in the recesses of the dingy bar. She waited impatiently for her hired muscle to appear. This wasn't her preferred method of handling trouble but Cassandra had learned long ago that sometimes one must deal with these types of people for certain problems. Lost in her thoughts she was startled by a shadow looming over her. Thankfully she herself was hidden deeply in the shadows. It wouldn't do for this man to identify her should he be caught.

"Hear you got a job needing done?" the man asked in a voice roughened by whiskey and smoke.

"Yes," Cassandra responded. Reaching into her bag she withdrew a picture, handing it to the thug with a distasteful moue.

The man looked the picture over carefully, memorizing the features of the young man. He was a good looking kid, shame that'd likely be changing. "What you want done to him?"

"A small lesson nothing more."

"What do you call a small lesson?" Bruce didn't mind hurting the guy, a man had to live didn't he, but he wanted to be very clear about what the client wanted.

"Bruises, pain but nothing permanently damaging nor requiring hospitalization," Cassandra clarified.

"I can do that, ain't cheap."

"I didn't expect it to be. How much?"

Bruce named his price to which the woman hidden in shadow readily agreed. He was surprised when she handed him the entire amount, usually he got half up front and the rest upon completion of the job. He shrugged, didn't matter to him, the job would be done either way. "How do I contact you when it's done?" He had noticed a slip of paper with some information on his target but nothing on his client.

"You needn't worry about that. I'll know when it's done," Cassandra assured him. She waited for the man to pocket the money and leave the bar. Though she wanted to leave herself, she forced herself to wait a full twenty minutes before making her own way from the very seedy establishment.

TBC...

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	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Joe ambled down the street, one eye kept on his surroundings. This wasn't the best of neighborhoods, not that it was the first time he'd been in a bad area. A detective had to go where the case led him after all. He'd been looking for the Miller kid for nearly two months now with no luck. Obviously the boy didn't want to be found. Then late last night Joe had received a message promising information on the kid's whereabouts. Well the guy had said he knew where to find what Joe was looking for and the Miller kid was all he was currently looking for so what else could the guy mean?

Bruce grinned maliciously as he watched the blond making his way towards the meeting place. Hot shot detective my ass, he chuckled. Idiot was more like it, oh well it made his job easier and that was all he cared about. Stepping away from the door he waited for his target to enter the deserted building that had once been a diner but was now only another symbol of neighborhood decay.

Joe cautiously stepped inside the old diner, carefully scanning the interior before fully entering the building. Quietly closing the door behind him he slowly moved further inside. "Hello, is anybody here?" he called out. He had made it as far as the counter but didn't want to go any deeper into the building until he knew who he was dealing with. A sound to his right had him turning just in time to see a club descending towards him.

"Kid, hey kid," the sound of an unfamiliar voice registered around the same time as the gentle shaking.

Blue eyes slowly opened to see an unknown man bending over him. Instinctively Joe curled his hand into a fist, pulling his arm back.

"Whoa buddy, I'm not going to hurt you. I own this place." The stranger held his hand out, palms towards the blond in a gesture that was obviously meant to soothe.

"Wha' appened?" Joe slurred. Glancing around he tried to make sense of his surroundings.

"Looks like somebody worked you over pretty good. Think you can stand up?" the man held out a hand.

Grasping the hand Joe let the man help him to his feet. He swayed unsteadily and would have fallen if not for the stranger's hand on his arm.

"What were you doing in here anyway?"

Joe gazed at the man uncomprehendingly for several seconds before memory returned. "Meeting," he replied, missing the scowl on the man's face.

"I don't want my building being used for that kind of stuff."

"Huh?"

"Drugs, don't need that shit being done in here."

Joe shook his head, immediately wishing he hadn't. "No, 'm a detective."

"You don't look like a cop?"

"Private detective, name's Joe Hardy," he held out his right hand.

Shaking the offered hand the man introduced himself, "Roy Arles, I own this building."

"I thought it was abandoned?"

"Nah, just not rented. You're lucky one of the other building owners noticed the door was unlocked or I wouldn't have come down here." Roy looked around, scratching his greying hair thoughtfully, "You said you had a meeting?"

"Yeah, guy said he knew where this kid I'm looking for was at." Joe grimaced, his face reddening with embarrassment. "It was a trick," he admitted. Frank was going to be pissed when he found out that Joe had gone to a meeting without back-up and gotten himself a beating for his trouble.

Roy eyed the young blond, "We should call the cops, maybe an ambulance."

"I'm not hurt that badly, just sore."

"You sure?" Roy wasn't convinced the boy didn't need to see a doctor.

"Yeah, I've had enough broken bones and concussions to know what they feel like."

"Rough work huh?" Roy smiled grimly.

Joe shrugged, "Goes with the territory. Probably should call the police," he reluctantly conceded. He really wasn't looking forward to that conversation, but it would delay the lecture he was sure Frank would be delivering.

"Why don't you sit down here," Roy suggested, guiding the younger man to a booth, "while I call the cops."

Joe's pride pushed him to argue but better sense won out this time. Without any argument the young detective sat on the end of the bench seat. Roy returned in less than two minutes to report that the police were on their way.

"This what he used?" Roy asked, bending over to pick up a length of wood about the size of a billy club.

"Stop," Joe called out before the man could touch it.

Roy straightened, "I wasn't going to hurt it."

"There might be fingerprints."

"Oh, didn't think of that," the older man sheepishly admitted.

"Most people don't." Joe groaned as the door opened and an officer he knew all too well walked through the door.

Con shook his head. "I should have known it would be one of you Hardys."

"You make it sound like we're the only ones that ever get assaulted around here."

"No, but the odds usually favor it," Con teased. "You need an ambulance?"

"It's not that bad, just bruises."

Con flipped open a notebook. "So what happened then?"

"I've been looking for this kid, runaway, but haven't had any luck. Last night I got a call from some guy saying he knew where to find the kid."

"I'm guessing it was lie?"

"Yeah," Joe blushed. He couldn't believe he had made such a rookie mistake. "When I got here I didn't see anybody so I called out."

Con frowned.

"I know, not very smart," Joe sheepishly admitted. "Anyway, I heard a noise and turned just in time to see some kind of club or pipe coming at me. Probably that," he pointed to the wood Mr. Arles had found a moment ago.

Con nodded, "Go on."

"The hit didn't knock me out but I was dazed. That was enough to let the guy tie me to a chair while he worked me over."

"You weren't tied to a chair when I found you," Roy put in.

"Hmm, guess he untied me when he was done."

"Can you describe the man?" Con asked.

"Big, I mean really big. Guy had to be at least 6'7" and weighed a good 250 pounds."

"Anything else?"

Joe shook his head. "He had on a ski mask and it was too dark to tell eye color. He just worked me over, I guess at some point I must have passed out. The next thing I know Mr. Arles here is waking me up."

"Did this guy say anything?"

"No...wait, there was something."

Con waited patiently for Joe to bring the memory to the surface. He hoped it would provide a good lead. Sure there weren't too many guys around that were as tall as Joe had described but there were enough that they couldn't just start hauling tall, beefy guys in for questioning.

"I can't remember exactly, something about not messing with stuff that isn't mine."

Con frowned. "That doesn't make much sense."

"I know that," Joe snapped. "Sorry," he immediately apologized. It wasn't Con's fault somebody decided to beat him up for something that didn't make sense.

Con waved it off, he knew Joe was feeling frustrated. "Anything else?"

"No, that's it," Joe slumped.

"Well hopefully forensics will find something useful. We'll need prints from you Mr. Arles."

"Me? I didn't have anything to do with this," Roy protested.

"I'm sure you didn't," Con easily soothed. "But you own the building so your prints are bound to be in here. If we have your prints we'll know which ones don't belong."

"Oh, guess that makes sense."

Con turned back to Joe. "You need me to call Frank?"

"I can drive my..."

"Not on your life," Con quickly cut him off. "You might not have a concussion but you don't need to be driving." And anyway he wasn't convinced the younger man didn't have a concussion. "Come to that I don't remember seeing your car outside."

"I parked it at a garage a few blocks from here. Didn't think it'd be a good idea to leave it on the street around here."

"Are you kidding me?" Con roared. Oh Frank was going to love that, his brother takes steps to protect his car and then walks into what turns out to be a trap without any back-up. "I sure don't envy you when Frank gets here."

"I'll call a cab."

Con laughed. "You can't avoid him forever Joe."

Joe glared; he didn't see what was so funny. "Go ahead, laugh at the injured man. Some friend you are," he grumbled as he fished his phone from his pocket; he didn't notice the missed call. Dialling the number for Yellow Cab Joe requested a taxi be sent to the former diner. Standing, he headed for the door. "I'll just wait outside."

Con and Roy watched him go. "You think he should be out there on his own?" Roy asked.

Con looked thoughtful. "Maybe not. Would you mind keeping an eye on him? I have to stay inside until forensics arrives," he explained to the older man.

Roy nodded. "I'll make sure he gets into his taxi alright."

"Thanks." Con began looking around the old diner, hoping to spot something that would lead them to Joe's assailant. He was careful not to touch anything; they had all been lectured on the importance of preserving a crime scene, more than once. A few minutes later he heard a car pulling up out front and voices, one of which sounded like Joe. He really didn't envy the kid explaining this to his very protective older brother.

TBC...

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	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Joe glanced at his watch as he rode in the back of the taxi, with any luck Frank would have left the office by the time he arrived. If he could have seen his brother at that moment Joe would have known he wouldn't have any more luck today than he'd had last night.

Frank's hands were shaking as he once more picked up the note. When he'd found the message on his desk he had thought nothing of it, it didn't even make sense. That had been before his brother was late to the office. He called Joe's apartment only to have the answering machine pick up, a call to the younger man's cell phone met with similar results. Frank read the note again, wondering if maybe he was over-reacting.

_Darling,_

_You are so sweet but it was wrong of him. Don't worry I'll make sure he understands._

_Love,_

_Cassandra_

Frank picked up the phone but he couldn't decide who to call, the police, his father, Joe? Before he could reach a decision the entry door opened. Dropping the phone he hurried towards the front door, ready to give Joe a piece of his mind for worrying him.

"Damn," Joe sighed and turned towards him; Frank's face lost all color.

"What happened?" he rushed forward, grabbing Joe by the arm and gently leading him to his office, it was nearest and he didn't want to worry Ethel.

"I'm fine Frank," Joe protested, pulling his arm loose. Despite his protests he gratefully sank into a chair, bruises might not kill you but they still hurt like hell.

"What did the doctor say?"

"Oh, um..."

Frank looked at his brother through narrowed eyes. "You did go to the hospital didn't you?"

Joe shook his head, "It's just bruises."

Frank huffed in annoyance. "At least tell me you called the police?"

Joe glared, "Of course I did. Con already took my statement." He couldn't believe Frank would think he'd be that irresponsible. "What are you doing here anyway? Shouldn't you be meeting Mr. Thompson?"

"I cancelled."

"You cancelled? Why?"

"Because of this?" Frank thrust the note under Joe's nose. He hadn't realized until that moment that it was still in his hand.

Joe read it over carefully, twice; it didn't make any more sense the second time through. "Okay, and?"

"And you were late, and then I couldn't reach you." Frank leaned against the wall, running one hand through his dark hair. "God Joe I thought...hell I didn't know what to think."

"I'm sorry you were worried," Joe mumbled.

Frank waved the apology off, "Not your fault."

"Actually it kind of is," Joe sheepishly admitted. He quickly repeated what he'd told Con.

By the time he was finished Frank's tenuous hold on his temper was gone. "I can't believe you Joe! You know better than to go off to a meeting without back-up, especially when you don't know who you'll be meeting. What if the guy had wanted to kill you instead of just giving you a beating? How many times do we have to have this conversation Joe? You are not Superman!" by now Frank was yelling.

Joe watched the small vein in the center of his brother's forehead pulsing with the rhythm of his speech. He idly wondered if someday the vein would burst. Joe shook off the thought, wincing as his brother brought up the old accusation. Usually he would deny it, but he had acted like he was invincible when he had agreed to the meeting.

"I still don't know what he meant about messing with things that aren't mine." This had the desired effect, halting Frank's anger as he put his mind to work on the question at hand.

"It's got to be connected to the note, but I don't know what she's talking about? What could have been sweet but wrong? What did you mess with...the flowers," Frank snapped his fingers. "But how would she have known you took them out of my office?" He suddenly remembered feeling as if somebody was watching him. "A camera," he looked around the room as if he would be able to spot it at a glance.

Joe shook his head, "I checked."

Frank turned to his brother, "What?"

"I felt like I was being watched so after you left I checked your office," Joe admitted with a shrug. "Didn't find anything," he added.

"And you didn't think you should tell me?"

"I didn't want to worry you, especially when I didn't find anything. I just figured it was making me jumpy, knowing somebody had gotten in here without us finding any evidence of it."

Frank sighed, he couldn't really fault his brother's reasoning and hadn't he thought the same thing? "I think we're going to have to ask Dad if we can borrow his gear."

Joe frowned, "I thought we agreed we weren't going to depend on Dad."

"I think your safety is more important than our pride, don't you?"

Joe couldn't hold back his smile. Typical Frank, "I'm not the one getting notes, flowers and candy from a stalker or old enemy, whatever she is."

"No, you're just the one getting beaten to a pulp," Frank smiled fondly at his younger brother. Walking to his closet he pulled out a small first aid kit. "Let's get you cleaned up and then we'll call Dad."

TBC...

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	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Fenton frowned as he gathered the necessary devices. He didn't like the sounds of this at all. His instincts were telling him the boys were wrong about an old enemy. He couldn't think of any who would play these sorts of games, unless maybe it was Assassins? But they hadn't had anything to do with them or the Network in years and they didn't usually go after people for revenge. Nevertheless a call to Arthur Gray wouldn't go amiss. Surely if the Assassins were behind this he would have at least heard some rumors to that effect.

The drive to the boys' office didn't take long. Fenton was somewhat surprised to see Ethel absent from her desk but a glance at the clock quickly supplied the reason. He hadn't realized it was lunch time already. "Frank, Joe," he called out.

"In here."

Fenton unerringly followed the sound of his son's voice down the hall to Joe's office. It was a good thing Frank had warned him; even so it was a shock to see his youngest covered in bruises. He had long ago come to the conclusion that no matter how minor the injury as a father it would always hurt to see his children in pain. Stepping forward he quickly closed the distance between them. Perching on the edge of Joe's desk he reached out, laying one hand against his son's cheek. "Looks like you had a rough night."

"Morning actually," Joe shrugged. It wasn't the first time he'd taken a beating and probably wouldn't be the last.

"Did you see a doctor?"

Frank snorted. "Superman go see a doctor?"

Fenton frowned, "Joe..."

"Look I know what broken bones feel like and nothing is broken. I also," he continued before either man could interrupt, "know the symptoms of a concussion and all I have is a headache." He didn't mention the slightly woozy feeling that indicated a slight concussion. They'd have him in the car and off to the hospital before he could make any protest. Figuring out what was going on was more important than spending hours in an emergency room only to be sent home, told to rest and given a long list of symptoms to watch for; symptoms he already knew by heart.

"I realize that son but you should still be checked out."

Joe shook his head, ignoring the pain the action caused. "I think figuring out who is behind this and if it's connected to Frank's stalker is more important."

Fenton sighed; he knew a losing argument when he saw one. He looked between the boys, "So you've decided Cassandra is a stalker?"

"I wouldn't go quite that far but it is looking more likely," Frank replied. Up until now he'd been silent, hoping his father could convince Joe to see a doctor. He should have known better. "You bring everything?"

"I did."

"Good," Joe said, rising to his feet.

Frank grabbed Joe's shoulders pulling him backwards into his chair. "You stay here little brother, Dad and I have got this."

Joe glared up at Frank. "It's just..."

"Bruises, yeah I know, but it won't hurt anything for you to rest, will it?"

Fenton shook his head. "Your brother is right, or should I call your mother?"

Joe's glare transferred to his father. "That's playing dirty," he protested but he relaxed back into his chair. He knew the fussing he'd have to endure if his mother came over and she'd never let him get out of seeing a doctor.

"No son, that's playing smart," Fenton smirked. Fenton handed one of the devices to Frank and led the way to his oldest son's office. Unfortunately the results of their search, even with the high tech equipment, yielded nothing.

"I don't get it," Frank mumbled. "The only thing Joe has touched that wasn't his was those flowers Cassandra sent."

"You're sure about that?"

"What do you mean?"

Fenton hesitated. He knew Joe was an honorable man but he was still a young man, he wouldn't be the first fooled by a pretty face. "Could he have, well could one of the women he's dated be married or have a boyfriend?"

Frank bristled, offended on his brother's behalf. "I can't believe you just suggested that Joe would do something like that."

"I don't mean he would do something like that knowingly, but maybe he didn't know."

Frank thought it over. His father did have a point, but he was pretty sure that wasn't the case. On the other hand it would explain why they had found no surveillance equipment in his office. If this was a jealous boyfriend or husband they wouldn't need to bug his office to know about Joe. Still..."He's actually only been on a couple of dates in the last month."

Fenton frowned, that didn't sound like Joe. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, we've just been busy with cases. They might not be big cases but they're still time consuming."

Fenton nodded, he was very familiar with the amount of time a case could demand. "It wouldn't have to be somebody he'd dated recently."

Frank sighed; checking out Joe's dating history since Vanessa could take almost as long as checking out their older cases. The newer ones they'd had since beginning their agency weren't likely to produce enemies of this nature. It was that thinking that had caused them to focus on the older cases first.

"Daunting task?" Fenton teased.

"You don't know the half of it."

"Nor do I want to," the older man grinned. "Let's go ahead and check the rest of the rooms to be on the safe side and then we can ask your brother about the possibility of a man angry over one of his dates."

"I really don't think that's what's happening."

"I don't either son but we need to cover all of the bases and it is a possibility. Covering bases is the reason I also intend to call Arthur Gray."

Frank's head snapped up, his face paling. "Assassins?" Man he hoped that wasn't who they were dealing with.

"I really don't think so. They don't usually go in for revenge and this doesn't seem like their style but..."

"We need to cover all of the bases," Frank finished for him.

"Exactly," Fenton grimly confirmed.

TBC...

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	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

As Fenton had predicted Gray had heard nothing about the Assassins in connection with any of the Hardys. Frank hadn't really been surprised, the stalker angle wasn't really their style, nevertheless it was a relief to rule them out. He smiled as he remembered Joe's reaction to the questions about his love life. Frank wasn't sure which had mortified him more, his father thinking he could still be so easily fooled by a pretty face or being forced to admit he hadn't been on as many dates as he had bragged about. It seemed little brother was as likely to spend an evening at home or hanging out with friends as Frank himself was.

Unfortunately these two avenues being proven to be dead ends meant they were no closer to figuring out just who Cassandra was. In the past two weeks Frank had received several more letters along with gifts of varying expense. An antique pocket watch had been the most expensive so far and Frank had hoped it would provide a lead; it hadn't panned out. Only a few emails had been received but they had been routed through so many servers that he would need the resources of the NSA to track them. Frank wracked his brain as he drove towards his apartment. There had to be something that would lead them to Cassandra. She had to slip up sooner or later, didn't she?

Frank pulled into his parking spot and wearily climbed from his car. Heading towards the stairs he waved at the other tenants as he passed them. A few called out greetings but he wasn't in the mood for small talk. He hurried on, eager to be inside the privacy of his apartment. At least Cassandra hadn't bothered him here yet. He hoped it meant she didn't know where he lived.

"Hey Frank," Tony Prito called down the hall.

Frank sighed; he really didn't feel like talking, not even to an old friend. But Tony was a good friend, too good to just blow off like he had the other tenants. "Hey Tony," Frank turned towards the other man.

"Long day?"

"You could say that."

"New girlfriend wearing you out?" Tony teased.

Frank shook his head. "Huh?"

Tony frowned, his teasing attitude slipping away. "You don't have a new girlfriend?"

"No, what made you think I did?" Frank's heart raced, he had a bad feeling about this.

"I saw her leaving your apartment earlier; I guess I just assumed you had found a girl." Tony could have kicked himself. He had worked with the brothers enough to know better than to make assumptions and Frank had mentioned the strange gifts, damn.

"You saw a woman leaving here?" Frank indicated his door. "Do you think you could describe her to a police artist?"

Tony shook his head. "I'm sorry man, I only saw her from behind. I was coming out of my apartment when she shut your door and headed for the stairs. You think it might've been your stalker?"

"Well I don't have a girlfriend so who else could it be?" Frank didn't wait for an answer as he inserted the key into the lock and pushed the door open. He froze at the sight of the table set for one, a candle burning in a crystal holder sat in the center of his small table. Frank stalked to the table and picked up the note he saw perched atop the cover on what he assumed was meant to be his supper.

"_Darling, _

_You've been working so hard lately and I know you can't have been eating properly. You must take care of yourself darling. I prepared this meal for you, though I wish I could be there to enjoy it with you. Ah well, the time is coming when we can finally be together. Until then think of me as you enjoy your dinner._

_Love,_

_Cassandra."_

Tony shivered, "That's creepy man."

"You're telling me?" Frank snapped. "Sorry, guess I'm a little on edge." Fishing his cell phone from his pocket Frank quickly phoned the police who promised to send somebody over as soon as possible. Done with this he lifted the cover from the plate, after grabbing a towel, releasing a bevy of delicious smells into the room. The filet mignon, baked potato with all the fixings and green beans looked great and Frank's stomach growled. It would just have to keep growling, there was no way he was eating something left by his crazy stalker.

"It's okay, I'd probably be snapping too," Tony waved off the apology. "What are you going to do?"

"Well I'm not going to eat that," he pointed at the plate. Frank stood next to the table, searching the room for anything that was out of place. Well anything besides a romantic meal and love note from a woman he didn't know. "You mind helping me check for cameras and microphones?" He would let the police check for prints but in the meantime he could be looking for surveillance equipment, not that he expected to find any, prints or equipment. Whoever this Cassandra was, she was good.

Cassandra sat in an apartment across the courtyard, a telescope and parabolic microphone aimed towards her love's home. She had rented this apartment after paying the previous tenants, through an intermediary of course, to move elsewhere. She couldn't chance placing cameras or listening devices inside Franklin's apartment and while she could have tapped into his laptop camera it wasn't always open here, unlike at the office. She had been mulling over the problem when she had realized that it would be easy to watch over her love if she had an apartment across from his.

She frowned as she listened to the conversation between Franklin and the other man. Why wouldn't he eat the food she had so lovingly prepared for him? Okay, so she had her chef prepare it but she paid the man's wages so it was the same thing. He didn't even sound grateful for her efforts, now that she thought about it he sounded angry.

"It isn't his fault," Cassandra sighed. He was tired, she knew how hard he worked, and that must be affecting his emotions. Obviously his friend's remarks about her note weren't helping either. She watched them as they searched the room, each man now wearing a pair of latex gloves. She giggled; it wouldn't do them any good. Cassandra was very glad she had decided against placing cameras or anything else in the apartment. She supposed the police would check for prints, they wouldn't find any of those either; her own gloves had assured that.

"I'll have to make arrangements," Cassandra mumbled to herself. The current situation was romantic and mysterious, and she hated to end it, really she did. After all men loved mysteries, a detective more than most, but there was no choice. If she and Franklin were to find lasting happiness they would have to get away from everything and everyone. Luckily she had the perfect place in mind.

TBC...

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	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Fenton hurried up the stairs to his son's apartment. He saw Frank and Tony standing in the hallway, the door to the apartment open. "You okay son?"

Frank turned startled eyes towards his father. "Dad, what are you doing here?"

"Ezra called me." Glancing into the apartment through the open door he saw the forensics team hard at work.

Frank blushed, he was twenty-five years old he really didn't need his father to hold his hand, but he was glad to see him. "He didn't need to do that."

Fenton shrugged, "Maybe not, but I'm glad he did. Have they found anything yet?"

Frank shook his head. "Neither did Tony and I. We looked everywhere it would be possible to hide a camera or microphone..."

"And a few that would be impossible," Tony put in.

Frank grinned, "Yeah, that too, but there wasn't anything. I wish I knew what this woman wants."

Fenton looked through the door again, his eyes honing in on the romantic table setting. "I'd say that's pretty obvious son."

"Yeah? Well it's creepy as hell," Frank shuddered.

_Across the courtyard Cassandra listened closely to the conversation. "You don't mean that darling," she whispered. "I know you're only saying what they expect to hear." They needed time alone, some place private where Franklin's family and friends couldn't interfere. They were only confusing her love and she wasn't going to allow that for much longer. "No, you shut your mouth," she snarled, transforming her pretty face into an ugly caricature of itself._

"I think you should move back home for a while," Fenton tentatively suggested. If this had been Joe he would have known exactly what reaction his advice would bring but Frank was harder to predict.

Frank stared into his apartment, seemingly unaware of his father's remark as he watched the lab people at work. He couldn't deny he would feel safer in his childhood home, nor could he ignore the fact that the family home had a state of the art alarm system making it infinitely safer than his apartment. "Thanks Dad, but I'm not about to let Cassandra run me out of my own home."

"You don't have anything to prove son."

"I know I wouldn't want to stay in my apartment if it was me," Tony added.

"_As if anybody would ever go to such trouble for you," Cassandra sneered._

"I'm not trying to prove anything Dad but it would be hard to convince clients to hire me and Joe if they found out I was running back home at the first sign of trouble."

"Were you planning to advertise the move?"

Frank laughed, "No, but that doesn't mean people couldn't find out. With the internet a lot of people are investigating contractors before they hire them and that includes private detectives. Besides it goes against the grain to run, no Dad that's what it would amount to and you know it."

Fenton sighed, he couldn't argue with his oldest especially when he knew he was right. Still the instinct to protect your child didn't go away just because said child was an adult living on his own. "How about a roommate then?"

"I don't think Mom would appreciate you moving in with me," Frank grinned.

Fenton returned the smile, "I love you son but I'm not giving up your mother's cooking." The three men chuckled. "Seriously though, I was thinking maybe one of your friends could stay with you until we can track this Cassandra person down."

"I don't know."

"I could do it," Tony offered.

"I don't like the idea of putting a friend in danger like that. This woman is crazy, there isn't any doubt about that and that means there is no predicting what she might do."

_Cassandra smiled, her love was so clever. Still she would have to make him pay for the crazy remarks, even if he was only saying it to avoid having a roommate/bodyguard._

"It's not like it would be the first time," Tony pointed out, the smile on his face showing he was only stating a fact.

"True, but that was different."

"Yeah, then we were only going up against bank robbers, kidnappers, mobsters, certainly nobody as dangerous as Cassandra."

Frank laughed, he couldn't help it. "Alright, you've made your point. I'll think about it but I don't want to make a decision that's influenced by fear."

Fenton sighed. "If that's the best we're going to get."

"It is."

"Mr. Hardy," Dave Sims interrupted.

"Yes?" both Fenton and Frank responded. Giving his oldest a sheepish glance Fenton stepped back, of course he was talking to Frank.

"We're all through here. I'll let you know as soon as we get the toxicology report on the food."

"Thanks Dave."

Cassandra watched the police leave after which Franklin and the others entered the apartment. Thankfully the curtains were open allowing her to watch as they put the room to rights, the parabolic microphone continuing to let her listen to their conversation. Nothing more of interest was said however, just more of the same.

She didn't like the idea of Franklin gaining a roommate; it would mean moving her plans up, luckily the plans were in place so it was just a matter of timing. Cassandra was certain the friend would be watching the apartment closely, making it more difficult to do what she needed to do, but not impossible. The man would have to leave for his own job, after all, and there was always a way, she would just have to await her opportunity.

Three days later a chance presented itself. The friend had taken some time off from his job, manager of some little pizza restaurant, really Franklin needed a better class of friends. His presence had created difficulties but then this morning he was called in due to small fire. Cassandra wasted no time. She picked up the bag she had waiting for a chance such as this and hurried across the courtyard, up the stairs to Franklin's apartment and with the key she had acquired she was through the door.

Moving to the refrigerator she pulled out a bottle of water and got to work. Using a small syringe she punctured the bottle near the cap, injecting a dosage of the sedative she'd selected through the natural ridges of the plastic. This done she placed the needle in her bag; if somebody were to look very closely they might notice the imperfection, if they used a magnifying glass. Confident that Franklin would never notice the tampering she replaced the bottle in the refrigerator, picked up her supplies and left the apartment.

She would have to watch the apartment constantly from now on, waiting for the day Franklin chose the correct bottle of water. She would need to hire somebody to help her get Franklin from his apartment and then into her cabin but she wasn't worried about that. For the right price you could buy anything or anybody you needed, a little extra and she could insure her hired help would keep his mouth shut.

Picking up the phone she made a call, the same man who had found Bruce for her could undoubtedly find another to help her when the time came. In a few sentences, couched in careful terms of course, she explained what she needed. Assured that she would have the necessary help Cassandra disconnected the call. Now she need only sit back and wait for the time to be right, then and only then could she and Franklin finally be together.

TBC...

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	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

"It's time," Cassandra smiled as she closed her cell phone. A week had gone by since she had dosed Franklin's water and finally he had pulled the correct bottle from the refrigerator. She had nearly gone insane waiting for her love to drink the proper water. But tonight, finally, he had done it, realizing too late that something was wrong. The look on his face told her the moment he recognized his drugged state, but it was far too late. With clumsy hands he had reached for his cell phone, dropping it to the floor as he drew it from his pocket. Bending over to retrieve the device he had lost the fight, falling to lay beside his phone on the tacky carpet in his apartment. Cassandra shuddered, wondering again just who had chosen the decor for the units in this complex.

Impatiently she waited, pacing through the apartment, checking and rechecking to make sure she had left nothing behind. Particularly she needed to be sure nothing incriminating was left in this apartment, not that anybody would have reason to connect it with her or Franklin. A knock on the door and she was hurrying across the apartment, pulling the door open in a flurry of movement. She hid her surprise well, for standing before her was the same man who had taught her love's brother a lesson.

"You got a job for me?" Bruce asked, his eyes raking over the figure of the attractive blonde standing in the doorway.

"Were you told what is expected of you?" Cassandra glared. Suddenly she was happier than ever that she had chosen to wear a disguise. The thought of this man knowing what she really looked like sent shivers down her spine.

"Yeah, so what'd this guy do to you?" Bruce could feel his goods shrinking at the frosty glare the woman aimed his way. "Right, none of my business."

"Are you ready?"

Bruce nodded. "I was told there might be a friend..."

"He's at work and won't be home for several hours."

"You sure about that?"

"Yes." Cassandra didn't bother to tell him that she had arranged to have Tony's car disabled, insuring he wouldn't be here to witness anything he shouldn't. "Shall we?"

Friday night in a building filled with young singles meant there was little activity in the hallways and courtyards, excluding the area around the pool which was easily avoided. To Cassandra the luck of Franklin drinking the drugged water on a Friday night was further proof that they belonged together. They must when even the universe was aiding in her efforts.

Bruce hefted a case that appeared to hold a long table, a massage table should anybody ask. Though the words Quality Massages painted on the side of the case made it unlikely he would be questioned by curious neighbors. It turned out to have been an unnecessary precaution as nobody was encountered on their way to the target apartment.

Cassandra walked confidently up to Franklin's door. Casually glancing up and down the hall she pulled out the duplicate key she had acquired, inserting it into the lock. She smirked as her accomplice tried and failed to hide his surprise. Opening the door she quickly stepped inside, closing the door after Bruce was inside the apartment.

Seeing Franklin lying on the floor had Cassandra dropping to her knees beside the man she loved. "Oh darling, I'm sorry it had to be like this," she softly apologized as fingers played with soft brown hair. "But I know you'll forgive me when we're finally together."

Damn what kind of nutcase had he agreed to work for, Bruce cursed to himself. He had thought this was some kind of revenge thing or, well he hadn't thought about the client being a stalker. He'd read about people like this and every one of them was bat shit crazy and as unpredictable and dangerous as a crackhead. He shifted uncomfortably, not sure what he should do or say.

Reluctantly Cassandra stood. She frowned, "What?"

Bruce startled. "Nothing, just waiting."

Cassandra studied the man, she wasn't sure she believed him. Mentally shrugging, she decided his behavior wasn't important. "You know what to do and be gentle."

"Of course," Bruce quickly agreed. It wasn't easy to get the man into the case without hurting him; luckily his drugged state had made him much more relaxed than would be normal. Still Bruce made a point of being careful; the last thing he wanted was to upset the crazy bitch that had hired him. When this was over him and Andy would be having words, damn that man for not checking the woman out. Bruce easily ignored the fact that he would have handled things the same as Andy, the only thing he would have checked was whether or not she was a cop.

Finally he had the brunette contained and ready for transport. "Your car hold this?" Bruce asked, indicating the case.

"Do not speak of him as if he's nothing more than a piece of furniture," she hissed.

"Sorry," Bruce mumbled.

"And no, you'll have to follow me," Cassandra replied, calmer now that an apology had been offered. She didn't like having Franklin taken to the cabin like this. He should be treated with loving care, not like a piece of luggage. Well she'd just have to make it up to him.

"No problem, guess you'll need my help anyway getting him out of there."

"Yes of course."

Nothing more was said as the two left the apartment, closing the door behind them. They moved slower, due to the extra weight, as they made their way down to the parking lot. Bruce placed the case holding Frank in the back of his van, securing it with straps to keep it from bouncing around the interior. He had a feeling the woman wouldn't like it if her victim arrived covered in bruises. "Glad it's you and not me buddy," he patted the side of the case.

Cassandra waited for Bruce to secure Franklin and close the door of the van. "Are you ready?" she coldly asked.

"Whenever you are."

"Very well," Cassandra moved to her own car and was soon leading the way out of Bayport. The cabin wasn't far, only a couple of hours away but hidden deep inside the woods that surrounded it. Only those who had been there would ever find the small building, she was sure of it. Her eyes flicked to the rear view mirror, always looking for the headlights of the van that held her love. Soon they would be alone, finally, secure from any intrusion of the outside world.

They arrived at a small cabin and Bruce heaved a sigh of relief. He couldn't wait to get as far away from this crazy bitch as he could. He patted his pocket, the weight of the pistol he carried bringing him a measure of security should his client turn on him. And with someone like her anything could happen, Bruce would rather face a strung out junkie desperate for a fix. He wasted no time in moving the brunette inside the cabin, laying him on the bed where the woman indicated.

Carefully turning around, he readied himself to dive to the side if she decided not to leave a witness around. She stood right behind him and he nearly jumped out of his skin before the envelope in her hand registered.

"Here you are," Cassandra smirked. "There is a bonus for your silence of course. I can depend on your continued discretion, can't I?"

Bruce took the envelope and nodded vigorously. "See you around," he mumbled as he headed for the door, never taking his eyes off the blonde.

"I very much doubt that," Cassandra absently responded as she watched Franklin sleeping in their bed.

Seeing that her attention was on the other guy, Bruce beat a hasty retreat. It wasn't until he was a good five miles from the cabin that his breathing returned to normal. He hadn't even bothered to count the money, he wasn't worried about her cheating him and frankly he didn't much care if she did. He only wanted as far from her brand of crazy as he could get.

TBC...

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	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Finally arriving home, Tony headed up the stairs to his apartment. It had been a long night, made longer by the unexpected trouble with his car. It had taken the better part of an hour to find the problem followed by another hour waiting on a tow truck. As had become his habit he stopped at Frank's apartment first, giving the door a rap with his knuckles.

He would have moved in to Frank's spare bedroom but the other man wouldn't hear of it, worried that his stalker would target Tony if he was in her way. Joe and Mr. Hardy hadn't been very happy with Frank's decision but they knew him well enough to know arguing would do no good. At least they had been able to convince him to let Tony check in with him every night. It wasn't much but it was better than nothing.

Tony frowned; Frank should have answered by now. He glanced at his watch; it wasn't so late that his friend would be in bed. Knocking again he waited for a response. When none was forthcoming Tony pulled out the extra key Frank had given him. "It's just me," he called out as he pushed the door open. Frank wasn't one to shoot first and ask questions later but this crazy stalker did have him on edge, better safe than sorry Tony decided.

Receiving no answer the young man stepped cautiously into the apartment. At first he didn't notice anything out of place; maybe Frank was in bed after all? Tony took a step further into the room that was when he spotted the half empty water bottle lying on the floor, Frank's cell phone a few inches from it. "Damn," he cursed under his breath. Hoping to find his friend somewhere in the apartment Tony began to search. It didn't take long to determine what he had suspected from the moment he'd seen the water and phone, Frank was nowhere in the apartment.

Pulling his own phone from his pocket Tony dialled 911. Forcing himself to remain calm he reported the probable abduction. The operator assured him, after asking a few questions, that the police were on their way and Tony ended the call. The next call was going to be a lot harder.

Joe jumped a foot when the phone rang. Laughing at himself he glanced at the caller id before answering the call. "Hey Tony, how did you know I was reading Poe?"

Tony smiled but didn't ask the expected question. Everybody who knew him was aware that Joe shut out the world whenever he read a Poe story with the result that he would jump at any unexpected noise. "Um Joe, I think we have a problem..."

"Something's happened to Frank?" Joe asked though they both knew it wasn't really a question.

"It looks that way," Tony confirmed.

"Where are you?"

"Frank's apartment; I already called the police."

"Have you touched anything?" Joe slipped his feet into his shoes and reached for his keys. Pulling the door closed behind him he hurried towards his car.

"Just the front doorknob." As soon as he had seen the living room Tony had grabbed a pair of gloves from the box Frank kept in the hall closet, using his shirtsleeve to open the door. The remainder of his search had been conducted wearing latex gloves to avoid messing up any prints Frank's kidnapper might have left behind.

"Good, you need to call the police."

"I did that Joe," Tony quietly reminded the younger Hardy.

"Right," Joe absently nodded. "I'm on my way, don't touch anything else." Ending the call Joe hit the speed dial to his childhood home. It didn't take him long to fill his father in on what he knew. With his dad's promise to meet him at Frank's apartment ringing in his ears, Joe tossed the phone into the passenger seat and increased his speed.

Joe slid into a parking space at Frank's building, his tires squealing loudly. Grabbing his discarded phone he jumped from the car, ignoring the odd looks he was receiving from the few tenants around on a Friday night. Taking the stairs three at a time he made it to his brother's apartment in record time. It was only when he reached the door and saw Tony standing inside alone that he realized there had been no police cars in the parking lot. "Tony," he called making the other man jump.

"Shit Joe, you scared me," Tony gasped.

"Sorry," Joe mumbled. "Show me what you found."

"It's not much," Tony apologized as if it were his fault the kidnapper hadn't left much evidence behind. "I looked around after I found it, Frank is definitely not here."

Joe cast a sideways glance towards the older man, "I thought you said you didn't touch anything else."

"I didn't," Tony protested. "Used these," he added, pulling a crumpled pair of latex gloves from his pocket.

Joe nodded, "Should've figured that, sorry." He seemed to be saying that a lot tonight.

"Don't worry about it," Tony quickly brushed the apology aside. If somebody in his family had been kidnapped he knew he wouldn't have been nearly as calm as Joe. Guess that's what comes from dealing with criminals since you were a teenager he silently mused.

Joe squatted down, his eyes roaming over the scene in the living room. "Is this exactly how you found them?" he indicated the water and phone.

"Yeah."

"We need to have the police run a toxicology screen on the water."

Tony's eyes widened. "You think it's drugged?"

"There's no blood to indicate that Frank was hit in the head," Joe pointed out. "Add to that the way the water bottle and phone are laying, like they fell from his hands...yeah I think he was probably drugged."

"Who do you think did it?"

Joe glanced incredulously up at his friend. "Cassandra," he bitterly responded. His name being called from the open door had Joe whirling towards it. "Dad," he acknowledged before turning his attention back to the living room. He couldn't face his father right now, couldn't stand to face the condemnation he expected. This was his fault after all. If he hadn't talked Frank into that stupid article none of this would ever have happened.

Fenton frowned. He wasn't sure what he had expected but his youngest barely acknowledging his presence certainly hadn't been on the list. Afraid of what he would see Fenton stepped further into the apartment. His confusion grew when he saw what Joe was looking at. Given his behavior the older detective had been half convinced his youngest had been confronted with a puddle of his brother's blood. "The water will need to be checked."

Joe nodded. "If the police ever get here."

"They were pulling in when I started up the stairs."

Just then a detective entered the apartment. "We had a report of a possible kidnapping."

The three men turned towards the door. "My brother," Joe replied. As quickly as possible he explained what had been happening since the article had appeared. He ended his narrative with what they had found in the apartment tonight.

"Right, I remember hearing about the dinner. It wasn't drugged though?" Tom Lockwood hadn't been the detective working the case then but he remembered hearing about it.

"Maybe it'd be better if Cotton was here," Joe suggested.

Tom bristled. "I do know my job."

Joe sighed, apology number three. "Sorry, I didn't mean anything by it. It's just that he's already familiar with everything..."

"Alright, that makes sense," Tom conceded, mollified by the apology. "I assume you think it was this Cassandra person who kidnapped your brother?"

Joe nodded. "I can't think of anybody else who would do it. At least there haven't been any threats."

"She would have needed help," Fenton noted.

"What's that?" Tom asked.

"If Frank was drugged a woman wouldn't have been able to carry him out of here."

Tom made a note. "Good point Mr. Hardy. Hopefully one of the neighbors noticed something," he added, though he didn't think it was very likely, still you never know. "I'll get forensics in here to start processing and put out an APB on your son." It probably wouldn't lead to anything but it was procedure and police work was often as much luck as skill. "It would be best if you all waited outside."

"Of course," Fenton agreed. Wrapping his hand around Joe's bicep he led the younger men from the apartment to wait in the hallway. "You okay son?" he gently asked once they were outside.

Joe's head jerked up, surprise written on his face.

"What?" Fenton asked.

"You're not angry with me?"

Fenton frowned. "Why would I be angry with you?"

Joe snorted. "Well let's see, first I talk Frank into that interview then I tell the world we're both single and looking. I might as well have hung a sign around Frank's neck inviting the crazies to come after him. But that's what I did isn't it?"

Fenton stared, shocked by his son's words. "Of all the..." he took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. "Joe you are no more to blame for this than I am."

"Right," Joe scoffed.

"Son you didn't invite Cassandra to come after your brother. Yes the article was your idea, that's true but you and Frank have both been in the paper before, haven't you?"

"What's your point?"

"My point is that this woman could just as easily have seen your brother's picture in the newspaper and become fixated on him. Stalkers don't really think like the rest of us and if this woman was going to become obsessed with Frank anything could have set her off." Fenton sighed heavily; he could see that Joe didn't believe him. "I can't make you accept that you're not to blame but remember two things will you?"

"What?"

"One, Frank wouldn't want you blaming yourself and two wallowing in guilt won't help find your brother."

Joe nodded; his father was right on both points. He would push his guilt aside for now; the most important thing was finding Frank.

TBC...

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	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

"Sims you got anything for me?" Detective Lockwood asked as he walked into the lab.

David nodded, "We found Rohypnal in the water. The kidnapper probably chose that since the victim wouldn't taste any difference."

Tom agreed. He knew most people thought of Rohypnal as nothing more than a date rape drug but it could of course be used for other purposes. "I'm surprised Hardy didn't notice the broken seal, he's supposed to be a good detective."

"I don't think the seal was broken."

"How did you come to that conclusion?"

David motioned the detective closer, holding up a magnifying glass near the neck of the bottle. "See that little hole?"

Tom nodded.

"I think she injected the drug through the bottle and by using the natural ridges on the neck of the bottle the hole wouldn't be seen by the naked eye."

"Well that explains that doesn't it?"

David nodded. "The only way the victim could have noticed would have been if he had the bottle turned at just the right angle for water to drip out of the hole as he was drinking. Even then he could have just thought it was condensation or something like that since not much water would have dripped through the hole."

"Any prints?"

David sighed, "No, whoever this stalker, now kidnapper, is she's good. The only prints belonged to the victim."

"What about the emails Hardy received, anything there?"

"No but I don't have the resources of the FBI, maybe they'll be able to trace the IP."

"I didn't think it was that difficult to trace an IP."

"That's what most people think," Sims conceded. "And they're right to a point. The ordinary person can trace the IP on their own but all they'll find is the general area of the person who sent the email. We, with our more advanced equipment and software can trace an IP to an exact address."

"Then why couldn't you do that with Cassandra?"

"Because she routed her emails through a large number of servers making it impossible to trace her exact location. Actually let me rephrase that, making it impossible for us to trace her location, the FBI should have better luck."

Tom nodded. He didn't like having to call in the feds but it was standard procedure in a kidnapping case and he couldn't deny they're greater resources could make all the difference. His problem, like most cops, was with the attitude the feds usually threw around. Walking into somebody else's territory and proceeding to treat them as if they were complete idiots good for nothing beyond writing speeding tickets wasn't going to win you any friends. Shoving his irritation with the FBI to the side Tom focused on the need to find their victim before his stalker hurt him or worse.

In a well hidden cabin Cassandra Reynolds lay on the queen bed next to her sleeping love. He would wake soon and she wanted to be sure she was the first thing he saw. She was certain Franklin would recognize their connection the moment he looked into her eyes. But just in case the prejudices his family had against their relationship were too strong, she had made sure her love would remain with her. He had to stay here; she had to have time to show him they belonged together.

Frank moaned softly, shifting in the bed. He didn't remember going out last night but he must have done so if the way he felt was anything to go by. Shifting again he became aware of a soft body lying next to him, pressed against his side. Oh hell, this wasn't going to be good. Frank didn't really have experience with picking up strange women in bars but he was pretty sure whoever she was she wouldn't appreciate his inability to remember her name.

"Hello darling, we can be together now just as we were always meant to be," Cassandra's voice was low and sultry in Frank's ear.

Memory slammed into him like a runaway train. The last thing he remembered clearly was leaving the office, he had no idea how Cassandra had ended up in his bed. He realized now there had been no drinking at a bar, something much more sinister than that was responsible for his current state. Reluctantly Frank forced his eyes open. "Where? What?" Frank shook his head, trying to clear the mental fog. Ow! Note to self, don't do that again.

"I know you're confused darling, it's the drugs. I'm sorry I had to resort to them but I know you can't let your family know that we belong together. I know they're against us."

"I don't even know you," Frank blurted out. A sharp slap was his reward, almost instantly followed by a strong embrace and mumbled words of apology. Okay Hardy, time to put your diplomacy skills to work. This would be a lot easier if he was more like Joe. His brother was the people person, able to charm little old ladies, young women, kids and men with equal ease. Frank was out of his depth here. True he was better with diplomacy but he wasn't sure how much help those skills would be in this situation. He hadn't gotten to the dealing with insane stalkers section of the diplomacy handbook yet.

Cassandra hated hurting Franklin but he really shouldn't say things like that. After apologizing to him she sat up, tracing her fingers along his strong jaw line. She winced at the red mark adorning his cheek. "I should get you some ice for that." So saying Cassandra stood and left the room.

The moment the door closed Frank began assessing his situation. It wasn't easy to think past the drug hangover but he might not be given too many chances. Shoving his discomfort aside he threw back the covers, freezing at the sight which greeted him. He blamed the drugs for his failure to realize his lack of clothes; Frank shuddered as he thought of Cassandra undressing him, her hands roaming his body as she did. "Think about that later," he mumbled as he scooted down the bed towards the shackle that kept him tethered in place.

It only took a minute to realize that only the key or his lock picks would allow him to remove the shackle. The bed was an old-fashioned four poster, too sturdy to allow him to break the wood. The chain too appeared to be thick and strong, there would be no weak link to free him from it. For the moment he was defeated. Moving back to his original position Frank pulled the cover over himself. Maybe it was stupid, she had obviously seen him naked, but he hadn't been awake then.

Though it would do no good at the moment Frank occupied himself with examining the room. It wasn't particularly large, roughly 12 x 14, most of it taken up by the large bed. Aside from the door leading out of the room there were two other doors. Through one Frank could see an old-fashioned claw foot tub, bathroom then. The other door was closed and he could only assume it was a closet, it seemed the most likely at any rate. Under the only window sat a small chest of drawers. Eyeing the window Frank wondered if the chain would allow him to reach it. He wouldn't be able to escape through it, obviously, but if he could reach it he could break the glass providing himself with a weapon. He could hear footsteps coming towards the bedroom and lay back against the pillows, any attempt to reach the window would have to wait.

Cassandra smiled to herself as she carried a tray of food towards the bedroom, an icepack lying next to the plate. She had considered lacing his drink with some of the designer drug she had paid a large sum for, the presence of the Rohypnol kept her from it. Cassandra didn't know how they would react with each other. She had investigated for some time, searching for the perfect thing to make her joining with Franklin perfect. The designer drug had no name that she could pronounce but it was the effects she was interested in. With this drug Franklin would feel great desire for her and would strive to please her but unlike other substances her love would remember their time together. Besides if she didn't drug him with this food he would be more likely to trust the next meal. Yes, she would give her love time to recover before they finally came together.

TBC...

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	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Frank glared as Cassandra returned with the promised ice along with a plate of food. He didn't miss the fact that there was no silverware, the meal consisting of finger foods only. "I don't plan to eat that," he warned her. He wasn't about to trust her.

"Now Franklin don't be like that," Cassandra pouted. "I spent quite a bit of time preparing you a safe meal."

"Safe?" Frank's eyebrow rose. "And the name is Frank."

"Yes safe Franklin."

Frank wasn't sure what she meant by safe as she didn't elaborate, though he suspected she meant food he didn't need utensils for. He thought about correcting her again but decided there were more important things to deal with than what she called him. "How do I know it isn't drugged?"

"You don't," came the matter-of-fact reply, surprising Frank. "But ask yourself this darling, what reason could I have for drugging you now?"

"You did it before."

Cassandra frowned; she didn't like being reminded of that. "I didn't want to but one must sometimes resort to distasteful measures."

Frank scoffed, "Distasteful? You drugged and kidnapped me; I think that goes beyond distasteful." He gave himself a mental kick, diplomacy Hardy, diplomacy.

She sighed heavily. She couldn't quell her feeling of disappointment. She had expected her love to recognize her once he looked into her eyes, just as she had done him. Men were so stubborn sometimes. "We belong together, you can't fight destiny my love."

"I don't even know you."

"Not in this lifetime, but our souls know each other. I knew it the moment I saw your face staring out at me from that magazine." Cassandra reached forward, no longer able to resist the urge to touch her love, her frown deepened as Franklin jerked away. "You'll come to realize it in time love. For now you should eat, you need to keep your strength up."

Frank made no move to pick up the sandwich lying on the plate. There was no way he would eat anything she gave him.

"Franklin please," Cassandra begged. She needed to gain his trust, that much was clear, but how was the question. "Here, I'll show you it's safe." So saying she picked up the sandwich and took a bite, followed quickly by a bite from the apple and a random chip. "There you see no drugs."

Frank still wasn't fully convinced but she was right about the need to keep his strength up. Reluctantly he picked up the sandwich and began to eat.

Joe rushed into the police station, his father on his heels. They had just come from the office after going over everything with a fine-tooth comb. Surprisingly it had been Fenton who had found the means Cassandra had used to watch Frank in the office. Joe shook his head, hardly able to believe that neither he nor his brother had noticed what was happening. The laptop was in his hands now; he only hoped the Bayport PD would be able to find something useful from it.

Dave Sims jumped nearly a foot when the door to his lab burst open. It was only luck that he wasn't in the middle of any sensitive testing. He was about to berate his visitor when he realized who it was about the same time he noticed the look on the younger Hardy's face. "I know you're anxious Joe but I haven't found anything yet and if the FBI have they haven't told me."

"Maybe this will help," Joe said, setting the laptop on the counter.

"What's this? And don't say a laptop," Dave warned the younger man.

Joe chuckled in spite of the serious situation. "It's Frank's laptop, we found something on it." The sound of a throat clearing brought a blush to Joe's face. "Well Dad found something," he amended.

"What did you find?"

"The camera has been hi-jacked."

Dave's eyes widened in surprise. "That's how the stalker was watching your brother?"

"I can't think of anybody else who would have done it. Will you be able to track her now that we know?" They had to be able to use this to find Frank. Joe knew enough about stalkers to know insanity was a given and he didn't want to think about what his brother might be suffering at this moment.

Dave hated to destroy the hope he could clearly hear in the younger Hardy's voice but he couldn't lie to him either. Maybe there was a compromise, "I'll try Joe but don't get your hopes up."

Joe's shoulders slumped. "You can't do anything?" Aware of a hand on his shoulder, Joe looked up, gratefully acknowledging his father's support.

"Well I won't know until I try but if she used several servers then we'll have to wait for the FBI and their resources."

"Do you know the name of the agent in charge?" Fenton asked. He knew the feds probably wouldn't share anything with the local PD. It was his hope that he, with his higher connections, could gain a level of access usually denied both local cops and a victim's family.

"Yeah, I've got it here somewhere," Dave looked through a stack of papers. Snapping his fingers he moved to the other side of the room, quickly finding a card which he handed to Fenton. "Agent Lakewood is the SAC. I've got to warn you Mr. Hardy I don't think he'll tell you anything."

"We'll see," Fenton mumbled. "Thank you; come on Joe." Turning on his heel he led the way from the lab and up to Ezra's office. He knew Collig had a secure line to Arthur Gray and though Fenton hated the thought of asking Gray for any help he knew the other man was his best chance at gaining cooperation from the FBI. Protocol be damned, there was no way he wouldn't be involved in finding Frank, nor would Joe be excluded from the search and eventual rescue. And there would be a rescue; Fenton wouldn't let himself consider any other possibility.

TBC...

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	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Benjamin Lakewood scowled at the phone, resisting the urge to throw it across the room. There were enough difficulties in working a kidnapping case without the victim's father throwing his weight around. Fenton Hardy might be an excellent detective, Ben wouldn't argue that, but there was a reason agents didn't work cases involving family members. Not only couldn't they maintain objectivity they often created problems due to their emotional state, making it more difficult to solve the case.

He glared at the phone, wishing he could have told Gray where to shove it. Ben sighed deeply. Well there was nothing for it; he would just have to deal with Hardy's involvement all the while hoping their victim didn't pay the price over them bending the rules. Dialling the number he had on file he didn't have to wait long for a response.

"Hardy residence," Fenton greeted the caller.

"Mr. Hardy, this is Agent Lakewood with the FBI."

"I've been hoping to hear from you Agent Lakewood."

"Don't you mean expecting Mr. Hardy?" Ben nearly snapped. He might have to share information with the man and worse allow him to help on the case but he didn't have to pretend to like it.

"Agent Lakewood I realize my involvement isn't procedure but I'm not an ordinary citizen and I won't sit back waiting while the FBI looks for my son."

"No Mr. Hardy, you're worse than an ordinary citizen," Ben retorted. "They at least know they shouldn't be actively involved in a kidnapping case."

Fenton sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. "I think maybe we got off on the wrong foot Agent Lakewood. I don't intend to take over the case but I can't just sit on the sidelines. All I'm asking is to be kept informed and for myself and my son to be allowed to help in anyway we can without hindering the investigation."

Well that was unexpected, though not unwelcome. "Even if I only have the two of you looking through files or making phone calls, that sort of thing?"

"Whatever we can do. The only thing I insist on is that we be there when you move in to take down the suspect and rescue Frank."

"Mr. Hardy..."

"I know it isn't procedure and probably violates a dozen rules or more but there is a good reason and it isn't the one you think."

"Enlighten me," Ben invited.

"Nobody knows Frank better than his brother and I know him nearly as well. One thing I can promise you is that if there is any way in which Frank can free himself he will. Joe and I, by being there, will be available on the spot to clue you in to what we think Frank might do."

Ben had to admit the man made a good point. Damn it, how was he supposed to stay angry and resentful when the cause of his anger turned reasonable? "Agreed, but I'm in charge. No heroics and no arguing with my orders. Pointing out a problem based on your knowledge of your son is fine but ultimately the decisions on how to proceed are mine."

Fenton could understand the man's position and readily agreed. "Have you found anything yet?"

"Unfortunately not, but the techs are still working on tracking the IP addresses through the various servers. Whoever this woman is, she's clever."

"That much I'm aware of," Fenton conceded. "I also suspect she has money, probably a lot of it to be able to pull off some of the things she's done."

Ben made a note, "That's a good point Mr. Hardy. Of course there are still plenty of women in this country with money but it should narrow the search a little. If nothing else it's one more piece of the puzzle that is Cassandra."

"Did the neighbors not see anything?"

"I did send agents to the apartment complex, in spite of the fact that the locals had already interviewed everybody. I didn't really expect it to produce any better results but sometimes people will remember something later but not contact the police out of a mistaken fear that they'll get into trouble."

"And?" Fenton impatiently enquired.

"And nothing. No new witnesses and none of those originally interviewed remember seeing anything upon reflection. I don't know if the kidnapping was planned for a Friday night or she just got lucky but either way the result is the same."

"What can we do to help?"

"At the moment there really isn't anything Mr. Hardy. Hopefully once the tech guys are done there will be but for the moment we're playing a waiting game. I would like to set up some tracing equipment on your home phone."

Fenton scoffed. "You don't honestly believe Cassandra will call here?"

"Honestly? No, but you never know. And there's always the chance your son will escape. If he is able to reach a phone but doesn't know where he is a trace would help us find him."

Fenton nodded, "You're right. I've already got tracing equipment installed; never know when it will be needed. I'll turn it on until your people can set their own stuff up."

Ben was glad he wasn't face to face with the man, there was no way he could have hidden his surprise. "That should be acceptable Mr. Hardy. I'll get some people there as soon as possible."

Fenton ended the call and turned around to see his wife and son standing behind him, each with an expectant look upon their faces. He hated to disappoint them. "They haven't found anything yet." He quickly filled them in on what had been discussed between him and Agent Lakewood.

"What about a reward?" Laura asked.

"Laura, honey," Fenton wrapped his arms around her, "rewards rarely work."

"I don't see why not."

"They usually just draw the crazies out along with greedy bast...jerks out to make a buck by providing false leads," Joe explained.

Laura drew back to look up at her husband. "And if the tech people can't trace her?"

Fenton sighed. "I don't know love, but we will think of something. We will find Frank, I promise."

"Don't make promises like that Fenton," Laura admonished him. "There is a promise I'd like from you."

"Anything."

"If they can't trace Cassandra we offer a reward for information."

"Laura..."

"Don't Laura me," she scowled. "Somebody had to have seen something and if they didn't then there's the person or persons who helped her."

"They're not likely to come forward."

"Oh please, there's no honor among thieves Fenton."

Fenton smiled ruefully. "I wasn't suggesting there is love but coming forward would mean implicating themselves in a federal crime."

"Then offer them immunity," Laura suggested as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"I would if it were up to me but that would be for the Federal Prosecutor to decide."

"Then make him agree."

"I'll do my best," Fenton promised.

"No Fenton, you make him agree. I know you have connections, probably higher than I know anything about...use them."

TBC...

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	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Bruce scowled, the blare of the television hammering at his skull in an unrelenting rhythm. Washing down some aspirin with the black coffee Terry had brought him he leaned back in his chair, sipping at the coffee as he waited for the medicine to take effect. He considered asking Terry to turn the television down but knew from experience the bartender would only ignore him. Resigned to his fate he did his best to ignore the noise, not helped by Terry's continual flipping of the channels. "Shit," he spat, nearly spilling the hot coffee on his lap. "Turn that back," he ordered.

Ordinarily Terry would have argued with the man but something in his voice warned him not to bother. With a shrug he hit a button on the remote, returning to the last channel. He listened with mild interest as the Hardy family spoke at a news conference. He'd have to keep an ear open, a bartender never knew what he might hear and ten grand was a lot of money. Turning calculating eyes towards the only other occupant of the bar he wondered if he was already too late.

The money was more than enough to gain Bruce's attention, he'd been thinking about leaving an anonymous tip ever since his last encounter with that crazy bitch. Most of the guys he knew wouldn't understand. Why should he do anything to help some private detective? They were as bad as the cops where people in his line of work were concerned. But he had seen the way she looked at the guy just the way a cat eyed a tasty little mouse and nobody, near cop or not, deserved what she had planned.

The only thing holding him back was the fear that the cops would trace the call and he'd end up in jail. Listening to the press conference, some Federal Prosecutor whose name he hadn't caught was talking now; he heard the last thing he had expected. Immunity from prosecution, the words rang in his ears and he knew what he had to do. There was no longer any reason to keep quiet and ten thousand very good reasons to talk. Headache forgotten he stood up and left the bar.

Cassandra smiled slyly as she added the drug to Franklin's food. It had been three days and she was sure the other drug was out of his system by now. Whether it was or not she couldn't wait any longer. If only Franklin could recognize the truth for himself then she wouldn't have to resort to these measures. Oh well, she shrugged, if this was what it took to make that stubborn man see the truth then it would have to be done.

Frank sat up in the bed, pillows propped behind his back. He hated how helpless he felt. "You can find me any time now Joe," he mumbled to the empty room. There wasn't a doubt in his mind that Joe and his dad were looking for him, he only hoped they found him before Cassandra completely snapped.

So far she hadn't hurt him, except for that one slap, but Frank was sure it was only a matter of time until she lost her patience with him. He really didn't understand how her mind worked. On the one hand she was convinced they belonged together, that Frank himself knew it too, but yet she kept him chained and naked. Clearly on some level she expected him to escape so how could she believe that he would come to love her?

The door opened and Cassandra stepped into the room, carrying a tray on which sat lunch for the two of them. Pausing by the door she hung the key to Frank's shackles on a hook that was just out of his reach; he'd checked the length of his tether the first time he was alone for any amount of time. "Hungry darling?" the crazed woman sweetly asked just as if they were a real couple.

"I guess," Frank replied keeping his tone even with great effort. The longer he remained a prisoner the more frustrated with the situation he became. The ironic part was that if she hadn't been crazy Frank would have found Cassandra very attractive. Knowing she was so obviously intelligent would have only added to her allure. At least she hadn't drugged him again, thank God for small favors.

Joe followed his father and the FBI agents through the woods. Their informant had provided very detailed directions to the secluded cabin. It was a good thing too or they would never have found the place. He just hoped they weren't too late.

Agent Lakewood held up a hand signalling a halt to their trek. Moving forward the various agents and two Hardys gathered around for instructions. They could see the cabin through the trees still separating them from their target. Joe wanted nothing more than to rush the door but he knew they needed more information before any rescue was attempted.

"Get the thermal imaging set up," Lakewood tersely ordered.

The agent in charge of the equipment nodded, already at work. In a few minutes he had everything in place. "Two live ones, same room," he reported, "looks like one male, one female."

"Alright," Lakewood acknowledged. "Let me know as soon as there's some distance between them. If we get really lucky the woman will come outside and we can take her down without any danger to our victim."

Frank stared at Cassandra as she removed the tray, she was so beautiful. Wait; where did that come from? Before he could follow the thought he was distracted by movement near the side of the bed, Cassandra had returned. Turning his head he was met by the sight of this beautiful woman, wearing little more than a seductive smile, making her way towards him.

"How do you feel darling?" Cassandra purred as she slid under the covers.

Frank moaned, her hands were sending tendrils of pleasure through him. No! What am I doing? I don't want this. But he couldn't stop himself from reacting to her. She must have drugged him that much was clear, it was the only thing that explained the sudden desire for the beautiful woman beside him.

"Um sir," Agent Wilson, in charge of the thermal imaging unit, quietly called out to the SAC. He had hoped to get the man's attention without drawing the attention of their victim's family, it hadn't worked. He couldn't believe Lakewood had agreed to their presence; he had a bad feeling the man was going to regret the decision.

"What is it Wilson?" Lakewood asked.

Wilson rather than answering verbally just gestured to the screen. The closeness of the two heat signatures left little doubt in the minds of the men watching just what was happening inside the cabin.

Joe stared at the screen for a full minute before turning towards the cabin. With a low growl he started forward; a hand on his arm stopped him. Turning he prepared to fight free of the hold of some agent only to find himself facing his father. "Let me go Dad."

"To do what?"

"What do you think? I'm going to stop her before she gets any further."

"You can't," Fenton said though it tore him apart to say the words.

Joe stared at his father. He couldn't seriously be suggesting they let that bitch... "You know what she's doing to him? You don't think Frank wants that do you?" No, his father couldn't believe that.

"Of course not but you don't know what kind of weapon she might have." Fenton sighed, "I understand how you feel Joe. I feel it too and believe me I want nothing more than to rush in there and stop her but I know we can't. We don't dare, not when she's so close to Frank."

"So we just wait while she rapes Frank?" It hurt to even think about his brother being used like that, he couldn't imagine what Frank must be going through in this moment. Was he lying there praying that somebody would save him from her? How could they just sit back and wait for her to finish with him? Joe blinked back tears of frustration. He knew his father was right and he hated it, but what else could they do?

"I didn't think he'd be able to stop him," Wilson commented to his boss as he watched the Hardy's move away from the thermal unit.

"I doubt he wanted to," Lakewood returned. "Let me know the minute she's out of the room."

"Yes sir." For the next hour Wilson watched the screen, bearing silent witness to the crime being committed only yards away from their position. When their suspect had finished she had laid beside her victim. He shuddered as he imagined her cuddling up to the man as if he were her willing lover and he knew in her mind he probably was. Finally she must have tired of the stillness.

He watched as one of the figures, obviously female, left the bed, moving away, other agents watching through the windows quickly confirmed the woman leaving the bedroom and entering the living room. Lakewood hadn't wanted to risk anybody monitoring the one window in the bedroom. It was probably good that he hadn't; there was no telling how the woman would have reacted if she had seen them.

Lakewood gave the signal and the agents moved towards the cabin, ready to rush inside at a moment's notice. The men waited muscles tense as they waited for the signal to move. A spotter reported her coming into the kitchen. She was now as far from the bedroom as she could get without going outside. Lakewood glanced around the woods, taking in the positions of his agents. Assured they were in place and ready he gave the signal. Moving smoothly, in sync after numerous operations together, as a unit they rushed the cabin. In minutes it was over, the suspect lay on the floor hands cuffed behind her.

Fenton and Joe had stayed to the back of the team, knowing that they would only be in the way. The second the all clear was given they were through the door and headed for the bedroom.

"Frank," Joe cried as he hurried to his brother's side. His older brother lay as still as death and for a moment the younger feared they were too late. And then dark eyes opened, staring up at him with such feeling that he didn't know what to say, until his brother spoke.

"Joe, you came. I knew you'd find me," Frank reached for his brother's hand, grasping it tightly as if to assure himself that Joe was real and not a figment of imagination.

"Always big brother, always," Joe choked. I only wish it had been sooner he silently added.

TBC...

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	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

Joe paced the waiting room, over to the window, turn left, at the vending machines another left would bring him to a bank of payphones. Funny you could never find payphones anymore; maybe all of the hospitals had stolen them. He'd have to remember to suggest that to Frank; it could be their next case. Joe shook his head, he must be more tired than he'd realized and just what was taking so long anyway? Frank hadn't looked like he was hurt, at least not physically.

Could whatever drug she had used done more damage than they'd first realized? Joe didn't know what she had used but he knew as certainly as he knew his eyes were blue that the bitch had drugged his brother. There was no other way she could have accomplished what she did.

"Fenton," Laura whispered her eyes tracking her son as he repeatedly paced the same path through the room.

Fenton, who had been leaning back in his seat with his head against the wall, sat up straighter and opened his eyes. Expecting to see the doctor he was confused when he saw that nothing had changed. "Yes love?"

"You need to talk to Joe."

Fenton followed Laura's gaze, watching their youngest attempting to walk a hole in the floor. "I doubt he'll listen to me right now." He knew Joe understood the reason behind their delay at the cabin but that didn't stop his anger. Fair or not that anger was directed mostly at Fenton.

"Why wouldn't he?"

Fenton turned away, he couldn't tell her what that woman had done to Frank. How could he? Frank would hate for her to know, he was sure of it.

"Fenton what are you keeping from me?"

The eldest Hardy male shivered. When Laura's voice held that vein of steel within it a smart person would answer with nothing but the truth. Any law enforcement agency in the country could have put her skills to good use.

"Fenton," Laura snapped.

"It isn't my place to tell you Laura," he hedged.

Laura said nothing, her gaze daring him to continue with that excuse.

"This has to do with why you think Joe won't listen to you?"

Fenton nodded. Sighing heavily he leaned his head back and closed his eyes. How do you tell a mother that her son had been violated? What words existed that could possibly ease the pain the knowledge would bring? "You know this Cassandra Reynolds was obsessed with Frank?"

"Yes Fenton, I think we're all aware of that," Laura impatiently replied. Why would he think he needed to remind her of that? "What does that...oh my...no," she whispered as realization set in. Why hadn't she seen it before? Of course that little...oh if she ever got her hands on that woman!

"I didn't want to tell you love. Bad enough that Joe and I knew," Fenton quietly explained.

Laura nodded; of course she understood why he hadn't wanted to tell her. "But darling that doesn't explain why Joe won't listen to you."

Fenton sighed, glancing once more towards his youngest. "He blames me Laura."

Laura jerked, stunned into silence for several minutes. "But why? Surely he knows you would have stopped that woman if you could have."

Fenton closed his eyes; he couldn't bear to see the disappointment and anger in her beautiful eyes. "That's just it love, he believes we could have stopped it, that I could have stopped it." He breathed a deep sigh, "The FBI had thermal imaging equipment, we could see what was happening..." he trailed off, confident that Laura would put the pieces together; she didn't disappoint him.

Laura forced the rising anger down. Her first instinct was to lash out at Fenton to demand why he hadn't saved their son from that. It took almost more willpower than she possessed to ignore that instinct. It was only the knowledge that Fenton would never allow one of their boys to be hurt if he could stop it that gave her the strength she needed. "Explain it to me," she quietly ordered.

"It nearly killed me Laura, to stand outside that cabin knowing what she was doing to our son but..."

"But?"

"We couldn't risk rushing the cabin when she was so close to him. If she'd had a weapon she could have killed him before we got within twenty feet of them." Fenton shuddered. He hadn't watched the thermal imaging, he couldn't, but he didn't need to. He could easily imagine what was happening only yards away from their position. And Joe, he blamed him for letting it happen. Worse in Fenton's eyes he knew that Joe blamed himself.

A lot of people thought Frank was the master when it came to heaping guilt on his own head, they didn't realize that Joe was just as likely to do the same. Both boys would blame themselves if the other was hurt in any way, whether it was their fault or not. And while it hadn't been his intention the sight of that damned magazine in Cassandra's possession was proof that it had been the catalyst for her obsession. A fact that Fenton knew Joe would beat himself bloody over, figuratively at least.

"Joe doesn't understand?"

Fenton shrugged. "I think he does in a way but part of him still thinks I should have done something to stop her sooner."

Before anymore could be said Dr. Bates stepped through the doors leading from the exam rooms. He caught Joe's eye and headed towards the elder Hardys, knowing the youngest would be right behind him.

"How is he?" Laura asked before anybody else could speak.

"Physically he's going to be fine. The only actual injury is a bruise on his cheek and that is healing nicely. The FBI provided us with a sample of the drug Frank was given. It's a designer drug and appears to have an effect similar to Rohypnal. We'll know more about that when the lab has fully analyzed it."

"So you don't know what if might do to Frank in the long term?" Joe asked. Rohypnal would have been bad enough but at least it was a known drug. With something unknown who knew what could happen.

"No," Bates admitted. "But because we have a sample it will be easier to figure out. Additionally we tested Frank's blood so I can tell you that there is only an infinitesimal amount remaining in his system. I expect it to be completely gone by morning, with Frank, hopefully, no worse the wear for it."

The three Hardys nodded their understanding. "Can we take him home tonight?" Laura asked.

"I'd prefer to keep him overnight for observation. As Joe pointed out we don't know if there will be further effects from the drug and it would be best if Frank were in the hospital at least until it has cleared his system. I'd also like him to talk to somebody about counselling."

Joe snorted, "Frank will never agree to that." Joe knew his brother, almost as well as he knew himself, and there was no way either of them would ever agree to seeing a shrink.

"I hope you're wrong about that Joe," Dr. Bates sighed. "Frank's going to need to talk to somebody, for his own good."

"What did he say when you suggested it?"

"I haven't, not yet. Frank isn't completely coherent, thanks to the drugs in his system so I thought it would be better to discuss it in the morning."

"He seemed coherent at the cabin," Joe nearly snapped. Calm down Hardy, it isn't Dr. Bates' fault this happened. No, he knew exactly who to blame for Frank's predicament and one of them would be staring back at him every time he looked in a mirror.

"And he is for the most part, but the drugs are affecting him. He's having a hard time staying awake or following a conversation," the doctor explained.

"Will we be able to see him tonight?" Fenton asked.

"Of course, as soon as he's settled in a room, but don't be concerned if he remains asleep. It's really the best thing for him while the drugs are working their way through his body. He'll be on the third floor; the nurses there can tell you what room when you go up."

The three thanked the doctor and as a unit turned towards the hallway leading to the elevators. They would arrive on the third floor as the nurses were getting Frank settled into his room. Resigned to another wait they each found a chair. Thankfully it was a short wait and in only a few minutes they were stepping into a dimly lit hospital room to find Frank sleeping soundly. When it became clear that Frank had no idea they were there Fenton and Laura moved to leave. Neither truly wanted to go but both knew they needed their rest if they were going to be of any help to their son. Joe wouldn't be budged, in spite of their pleas and hospital regulations; settling into the chair at his brother's bedside the blond, with no need for words, made it clear that he wouldn't be moved. Recognizing the stubborn set of his jaw, the tired parents finally left the room knowing the younger boy would take care of his elder brother just as Frank had always looked out for Joe.

TBC...

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	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

Nurses came and went throughout the night, Joe ignored them all. He knew hospital regulations said he shouldn't be here, they could shove their rules. He had gotten his brother into this mess the least he could do was to be here for him when he woke up.

"_Frank's going to need to talk to somebody, for his own good."_

Dr. Bates' words echoed in Joe's mind. He knew the older man was probably right, the trouble was Frank wouldn't like the idea at all. Joe wouldn't have been comfortable with the thought of discussing something so intensely private with a stranger the idea of his even more reticent brother opening up was nearly laughable. "But there's nothing funny about this," his whisper nearly inaudible.

"Joe," Frank croaked. He winced at the rough sound of his voice, he didn't even sound like himself.

The blond snapped his head up, staring incredulously at the brunette. He blinked, once, twice, was Frank really awake?

"Joe, okay?" the older Hardy rasped.

Joe smiled, "I think that's my line." He stood up and moved to the bedside table. Picking up the water pitcher he began to pour, "You sound like you could use a drink."

Frank nodded and seconds later he was sipping cool water through a straw. "Thanks," he quietly said in a voice that sounded more like his own.

"You're welcome."

A noise sounded in the hall and Frank's head jerked to the side, eyes widening in fright. It took him a moment to remember that he was in the hospital, safe from Cassandra. He was safe, wasn't he? "Cassandra?"

"In jail."

"Not a hospital?" Frank couldn't hide his surprise. If anybody was ever a candidate for the psych ward it had to be Cassandra.

Joe frowned, "I guess she probably will end up there sooner or later but for now she's in jail." He didn't like the idea of that crazy woman winding up in Bellevue or some place similar. Security around hospitals, even ones dedicated to the criminally insane, was never as good as what could be found in a prison; it would be way too easy for Cassandra to escape.

"Probably what she needs," Frank conceded. He didn't know how he felt about the idea. A part of him, the compassionate man who wanted to help others, thought she should be sent to a hospital where she could get help. But another part of him wanted to see her locked up, the key thrown away and forgotten about. He needed to know she would never be able to get near him again. At that moment, if anybody had asked, Frank couldn't have said which side was stronger.

"I guess," Joe mumbled. "Um Frank I just wanted..." he trailed off at a loss for words. Nobody would ever believe it if he told them. He needed to apologize to his brother, he had to be sure that Frank knew just how sorry he was about what had happened to him. But what could he possibly say, sorry didn't seem like nearly enough.

"You wanted," Frank prompted after several moments of silence. "Joe?"

"I don't know what to say."

Frank frowned. "About?"

Joe gave his brother a pointed look. Did Frank honestly not realize who was to blame for the ordeal he'd gone through?

The frown deepened and Frank blew out an exasperated breath. "You're not still blaming yourself for Cassandra are you?"

"Who else should I blame?" Joe snapped.

"How about the crazy woman who let an obsession take over her life?"

"A crazy woman who wouldn't have ever seen you if not for that magazine article; the article I talked you into."

"Hold it right there little brother," Frank held up his hand. "Yes it was your idea and I wasn't crazy about it but when have you ever talked me into something I didn't want to do?"

"Nice try Frank but we both know you didn't..."

"No I didn't but it wasn't the article I was against."

Joe narrowed his eyes, not believing the older man for a second. "Right."

"It wasn't Joe; I just didn't think giving an interview to a magazine that had nothing to do with law enforcement was a good idea."

"And if we'd used a different type of magazine Cassandra wouldn't have seen it," Joe stated as if Frank had just proven his point.

"Or she would have seen me somewhere else," Frank calmly pointed out. "Joe you can't control the actions of other people, especially crazy people."

Joe didn't think he would ever cease to be amazed by his older brother's strength. He didn't think he'd be crying like a girl but if he were in Frank's place the blond knew he wouldn't be nearly as calm and rational. "You're taking this all a lot better than I expected."

Frank shrugged, "Not like it's the first time I've been kidnapped. Granted the crazy obsessed stalker is new but it's still just a kidnapping."

It was Joe who was frowning now. "You don't have to pretend Frank. I know what she did to you."

Frank nodded, "She kidnapped me Joe I just said that so what do think I'm pretending about?"

"It isn't anything to be ashamed of Frank, you know that don't you?" Joe had read about women feeling guilty after being raped so he guessed it made sense that a man would too. He'd never understood that. It wasn't as if they asked for it or enjoyed it and in Frank's case he'd been drugged for God's sake.

"I don't know what you're talking about Joe."

Frank really did look bewildered but how could that be? Was it the drug? Dr. Bates had said it was similar to Rohypnal, maybe Frank really didn't remember what that bitch had done to him. Joe wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. He didn't really want his brother to carry those memories but what if they came back later; wouldn't that just make it worse? Not being a psychiatrist Joe had no idea what the answer was.

"Joe?"

Joe shook his head. He needed to talk to Dr. Bates or maybe that shrink he'd mentioned, somebody who would know what to say. The door opened admitting Fenton and Laura to the room, ending their conversation for now.

Laura smiled, "Oh Frank it's so good to see you awake." Leaning down she hugged him tightly, a few tears leaking from her blue eyes. Blinking the tears away she forced a bright smile onto her face as she stood up. "How do you feel this morning?"

"Okay I guess," Frank shrugged. "Ready to go home."

Fenton chuckled, "Nothing new there. Neither one of you boys could ever stand being cooped up in a hospital room."

Laura looked up at her husband, "I wonder where they got that from," she teased.

"I have no idea," Fenton innocently replied. "Must have come from your side of the family."

Frank shot his brother a grin; both of them were familiar with their parents' brand of humor. He sighed when Joe only half-heartedly returned the grin. Obviously little brother was going to keep beating himself up. Well he'd just have to put a stop to that and the sooner the better. Before he could say anything Joe surprised him with a thinly veiled excuse and a quick exit.

He caught the questioning look from his mother. "He feels guilty for the kidnapping," he explained. "I told him it wasn't his fault, but I don't think he believes me."

"Well after what she did to you it's not surprising that your brother is feeling guilty."

That sounded something like what Joe had said. "Come on Dad it isn't like I've never been kidnapped before."

Fenton and Laura exchanged a concerned glance, a glance that didn't go unnoticed by their son.

"What?"

Laura sighed, "Frank, honey, what exactly do you remember about the kidnapping?"

Frank shrugged, what was there to remember? "I remember passing out in my apartment, guess she drugged my water?"

Fenton nodded, confirming the guess.

"Next thing I knew I was waking up in that cabin, chained to the bed and wondering what would happen next."

"What else?" Fenton asked.

"Not much, I told her she was crazy and she hit me. Then she apologized and fixed an ice bag. I tried to remind myself not to make her mad but it wasn't easy to keep my temper." Frank chuckled darkly, "Kind of funny when you think about it. I'm supposed to be the level-headed one. Maybe it was the drugs," he suggested.

Fenton looked at Laura, silently asking if he should bring up the sexual assault. A minute shake of her head was answer enough; Fenton wisely heeded her warning. "Do you remember anything else son?" that should be a safe question.

Frank's brow wrinkled in thought but try as he might he couldn't remember anything beyond a couple of meals and then the FBI busting into the cabin. He said as much to his parents, confused by the look they shared when he had finished. "Is there something else I should remember?"

Ostensibly in search of a drink Joe was in reality searching for their family doctor. He needed to know what the man had learned about the drug Frank had been given. The elevator dinged as he neared the doors and Dr. Bates stepped onto the floor.

"Joe, finally get tired of sitting in our comfortable chairs?" the doctor teased.

Joe didn't crack a smile. "Actually Doc I think there may be a problem." As quickly as possible he explained the conversation he'd had with Frank only a short time ago. "You said the drug was like Rohypnal, could that be why he doesn't remember?"

Alan frowned. "I can't rule it out Joe but from what the lab analysis shows Frank's short-term memory shouldn't be affected by the drug."

"Then why can't he remember?"

"He could be repressing the memories," the doctor explained as they walked towards Frank's room. "All the more reason for him to speak to a counsellor."

Joe snorted, "Good luck with that."

Bates frowned. "Joe your brother needs this."

"I'm not arguing with you Doc but you know how stubborn Frank can be. The truth is even if he remembered he wouldn't want to talk to a stranger about it and with him not remembering he'll be even more reluctant."

Bates conceded the point. "Then I guess you'll just have to talk him into it, won't you? You're usually pretty good at that," the older man reminded not realizing the knife he was figuratively twisting in the younger Hardy.

Giving the doctor a weak facsimile of a smile Joe nodded, and silently followed the older man to Frank's hospital room.

TBC...

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A/N: Sorry about the long wait. I had trouble writing as I was getting ready for the holidays. Finally finished all the preparations and due to a tree falling was without internet for five days. 24 hours after the internet was reconnected our power went out and as there are over 200,000 people in the state without power it will be a while before power is restored therefore I can't tell you when I will next update. I am currently borrowing internet from a friend of my kids who still has power but this is probably a one-time thing. Thank you for your patience.


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

"Why do you have to be so stubborn?" Joe snapped in frustration.

Frank glared at his younger brother. "Why do you keep insisting on something I don't need?"

Joe sighed deeply, running his hands through his hair, just barely resisting the urge to pull it. This must be what the rest of his family, particularly his brother, felt when trying to convince him of something. The realization had Joe silently promising to be more cooperative in the future. "Frank you know Dr. Bates doesn't want to let you go home until you talk to somebody about what happened so why don't you just do what the doctor wants? Come on bro, waste an hour with a shrink and then you can go home." Joe knew his brother probably needed more than one session and could only hope that afterwards Frank would realize the same thing.

"I am an adult you know," Frank calmly pointed out.

Joe raised one eyebrow, "And?"

"And I don't need anybody's permission to leave the hospital if I want to."

Joe gaped, "Frank Hardy, stickler for rules, is going to check out of the hospital AMA?"

"It's not as if there's a reason I should stay and talking to a shrink doesn't count."

"What if that drug causes some unexpected side effect?"

"I've been here almost two days Joe, if there were going to be side effects they would have shown by now."

"Really Dr. Hardy and I suppose your years of medical training told you that?"

Frank scowled, "I don't need to be a doctor Joe, it's common sense."

"Maybe you're right but what if you're wrong? I don't want to see you hurt or worse Frank." Joe knew it wasn't really fair but when it came to his brother's well-being he wasn't above using a little emotional blackmail.

Frank couldn't understand his brother's insistence that he comply with the doctor's wishes. Usually Joe would be helping him figure out some way to talk the doctor around to releasing him from the hospital. "You're not worried about side effects and we both know it so why don't you just tell me."

"Tell you what?" Joe asked with his most innocent look. He should have remembered that Frank had long ago become immune to such ploys.

"Why is it so important to you that I talk to a shrink? Did something happen that you haven't told me about?" Frank couldn't think of any other reason for his brother's behavior, but what could be so bad that Joe would encourage him to talk to a psychiatrist? Did he really want to know? Maybe not want exactly but Frank quickly decided that he needed to know.

"The doctor thinks you should," Joe countered. He wasn't sure he agreed but both Dr. Bates and Dr. Garza, the psychiatrist, thought it would be better if Frank remembered the details on his own. To Joe it felt as if he was lying to his brother and he hated every second of it.

Frank threw back the covers and swung his legs to the side as he sat up. Luckily his i.v. had been removed early that morning relieving him of the necessity of removing it himself.

Joe jumped to his feet, "What are you doing?"

Ignoring his brother Frank walked to the closet and began pulling his clothes from it.

"You're really going to check out of the hospital?"

"No reason to stay," Frank said as he replaced the pajama top with a t-shirt.

"The doctor doesn't agree."

Frank laughed, "Since when do you listen to doctors?"

"Since I put you in the sights of a psycho stalker," Joe snapped. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down as he tried to convince his brother to cooperate with the doctors. "Frank please listen to Dr. Bates; just talk to Dr. Garza once, that's all I'm asking."

Frank turned towards his brother, jeans held in one hand. Ignoring the need to comfort the younger man, he pressed the issue. "Tell me what you're hiding and maybe I will."

Unconsciously seeking an escape, Joe's eyes darted about the room, finally coming to rest on the floor. "Why do you think I'm hiding something?" The look of disbelief he received from his older brother would have told Joe, had he been looking, that his attempt at evasion had failed miserably. "They don't want me to tell you," he quietly admitted.

Frank narrowed his eyes, "Dr. Bates?"

Joe nodded, "And Dr. Garza, they think it would be better if you remember on your own."

"So something else did happen? Something I've evidently forgotten."

"Will you talk to Dr. Garza now?"

"Why did you go along with them Joe?" Frank made no effort to hide the hurt his brother's actions had caused him. The two of them had never kept secrets from each other, discounting Christmas and birthday presents. If he were completely honest with himself the fact that Joe would go along with it scared him. What could be so bad that his brother thought it better to keep the information from him?

Joe winced. Would it really be so bad to tell Frank the truth? If it were him he would want to know and Frank obviously felt the same. Maybe Dr. Garza knew what she was talking about but she didn't know his brother; Joe did and he knew the time for keeping secrets was gone. He gave a short nod and looked up from his study of the floor tiles. "I'll tell you Frank but I think you should sit down first."

Frank swallowed hard, "That bad?"

Joe made a choked sound that could have been a laugh or a sob, "It couldn't get a lot worse."

A pale Frank sank into a nearby chair, wondering if he should have left well enough alone. Too late for that now; "Tell me."

Half an hour later, following Joe's halting account; Frank sat slumped in his seat. "How could I have forgotten something like that? Is it the drug that made me forget?"

Joe shook his head, "Dr. Bates doesn't think so."

"So what? I just forgot being..." he couldn't even think the word, never mind saying it.

"Guess so." Joe wished he could forget the little he had witnessed through the thermal imaging device but he knew the memory would be forever seared into his brain.

"And Dr. Bates thinks if I talk to this Dr. Garza I'll remember? What if I don't want to remember? There must be a reason my brain decided to forget; wouldn't it be better to just let it be?"

"Can you live with that? You've never been the type of person to hide from the truth Frank, can you ignore it now?"

Could he? Would it be better to remember or to keep the memory buried in the recesses of his mind? The logical side of him said he needed all of his memories, no matter how bad they might be, but there was another part that shied from even the thought of remembering. If simply hearing about it was hitting him so hard how much worse would the actual memory be? "I'll find out won't I?"

"So that's it then, just go on with your life like nothing happened?"

Frank shrugged, "No point in talking about something I don't remember is there?"

Joe didn't have an answer for that.

"Would you go ask the nurse for whatever papers I need to sign?" Frank asked, breaking the awkward silence. As Joe reluctantly left the room Frank continued to change his clothes; he wanted to be ready when his brother returned with the nurse.

A/N: AMA stands for Against Medical Advice.

Sorry for the long delay, real life decided to get in the way. I won't promise it'll never happen again but I'll certainly try to avoid it.

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	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

I feel his eyes on me as I walk down the hall, watching me, always watching. I'm not sure what he's expecting but if he keeps it up he may get something he doesn't want. It's been this way since I came home from the hospital, three weeks without letup has a way of wearing on a man's nerves and I'm very near to snapping. You'd think Joe of all people would understand, he hates being hovered over.

The only place I get any relief at all is when I'm home, though Tony has made a point of checking in on me more than he used to, as have my parents but at least they're not always there. It wasn't easy going back to my apartment I admit, but I'm not letting that crazy bitch drive me out of my home. It got a little better when the prosecutor called me about a possible deal, one that meant I'd never have to see Cassandra Reynolds again. None of the family were very happy about it, they want the book thrown at her. Lucky for her I was the one who had to make the decision. I guess if I'm honest I'd like to see her spend the rest of her life rotting in a prison cell but that would mean court and telling the world about what she did to me. Bad enough that I have to live with the memories; I don't need it to become public knowledge.

Yeah the memories returned, ten days after I came home. I don't know why they returned. Maybe it was just knowing what she had done or maybe my mind was ready to deal with it, hell maybe it was the drug cocktail she gave me that was blocking them. Nobody else knows, if they did I doubt the prosecutor would have been as quick to cut a deal.

Damn that hurt! When did my grip on the file folder I carry get so tight? Okay Hardy, deep breath, relax your grip, flex your fingers a little, ah that's better. As I take my seat I can't help wondering how long it'll take Joe to come in here to check on me. Oh he'll have some excuse, a file he needs, might help if we had more files but being a small agency and fairly new; well there aren't that many files for Joe to request. In fact the last two were completely made up, probably on the spot if Joe's stuttering was anything to go by.

I've barely opened the file, just glancing at the information it held when a knock on my door interrupted me.

"I don't have it Joe," I say without looking up.

"Um Frank I haven't asked for anything yet," Joe very reasonably points out.

I can't help the smile that tugs at the corners of my lips. "It doesn't matter little brother, I still won't have it." And now he just looks confused. "I think you need to go talk to Con."

Joe's eyebrows rise nearly to his hairline, "Con? Why would I need to talk to him?"

"Oh I just thought maybe he could offer you a refresher course on surveillance techniques," I respond with a small shrug.

"Surveillance?"

"Yes Joe, surveillance. You know that practice where you watch somebody for any sign of wrong doing or signs they're about to have some kind of mental meltdown." I wonder if he'll notice the sarcasm. Considering the blush spreading across his cheeks I'm guessing he caught it.

"We're all just worried about you Frank."

I can't help noticing he doesn't deny the accusation, but then Joe has always been honest with family members; at least once he's been busted fair and square. "I know Joe and I appreciate it but honestly, you're driving me crazy with all of the hovering and watching. Did you know that our mother stopped by my apartment four times last week? She was just in the neighborhood apparently. Problem is she doesn't know anybody in that area except me and doesn't frequent any of the nearby businesses either so as an excuse it's a bit thin." I hold up my hand, stopping him before he can defend Mom's actions. "I know Joe, she's just worried, you're all worried but I need space little brother. I haven't remembered anything else; it's just another kidnapping as far as I'm concerned."

I know the words are a lie but if any of my family knew they'd insist I talk to some kind of counsellor and I'd really rather not. Nothing against the psychiatric profession, I'm sure they help a lot of people but I prefer to handle things on my own. I don't need some stranger rooting around in my head just to tell me that whatever I'm feeling is okay or normal or whatever they'd say. Worse I don't need to be told that I'm not okay, that I'm not dealing with the assault in a healthy way. I was alone when it happened, well not counting the crazy stalker/rapist, and that's how I'll handle the aftermath, alone.

"And what if the memories do come back?" Joe asks, his voice trembling just a bit with the weight of his guilt. And that's another thing I don't want to deal with, my brother's feelings of guilt. It isn't his fault this happened. I'm a lot more cautious than Joe, always have been, and I never once considered that article attracting a stalker so why should anybody else have seen it coming? But Joe can't see that, he only sees the result and hates himself just a little for causing it, though of course he didn't but just try to convince him of that little fact.

"You'll be the first to know," I lie again. "Well actually I suppose you'll be the second as I'll know first," I throw the line out, hoping to make my brother laugh. He hasn't done much of that since the kidnapping and assault, nobody has. I guess they don't feel much like joking, too busy being consumed by their worry for me.

"Alright, I'll try to back off. I won't promise not to keep an eye on you Frank and you're on your own with Mom but I'll try not to hover quite so much."

I accept with a small nod, it's a start at least. "Thank you little brother," I say sincerely grateful for the offer. "So can we get back to work now?"

"Yeah," Joe nods, turning to leave. At the last moment he turns, giving me a long, considering look. "You will tell me if you start remembering or just need to talk, right?"

If I weren't already lying to him I'd be highly insulted by the doubt I hear in his voice. As it is I can't quite bring myself to muster the proper amount of righteous indignation. I do manage a heavy sigh, hopefully that will allay any suspicion Joe has. "Yes Joe I promise to come to you if I need any help." It wasn't a lie, not really, I told myself. I just happened to not need my brother, parents, friends or strangers, especially strangers, helping me deal with the reality of that bitch's assault.

The moment Joe closed the door behind him I opened the file folder again and powered up my new laptop. The laptop without a built in camera thank you very much. An involuntary shudder races through me, never again would somebody use my own technology against me as Cassandra had done. In this one area I'd opted to go a bit old school, an external webcam, connected to the computer only if I would be using it that day.

I begin reading through the file as the computer powers up and I absently hit the browser key. I've got a lot of research to do but the answer has to be here. I remember everything about the kidnapping and assault now. I should have hated her touch, I had hated it and yet my body reacted as if she were a woman I wanted to hold, to touch, and to love. Placing the folder to one side I begin typing in the first of a long list of ingredients, the components of the drug Cassandra fed me. There has to something to explain my body's reactions because the alternative is not only unacceptable; it's unthinkable.

TBC...

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